On the Road Again
by Ec1aire
Summary: Adventure had always called to her, and now Ira is back for more. Only this time, the fate of the whole of Middle Earth hinges on how things end. With the help of her brooding half-dragon companion and many other courageous souls, Ira sets out for Mount Doom, where the fate of Sauron will be decided, along with all Middle Earth. F!DB/Alduin. Sequel to Dragons of the North.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira :) Everyone else belongs to Tolkien, Peter Jackson or Bethesda**

**A/N: So, here is the start to On the Road Again. For those of you reading this, there will be some who have and some who haven't read the prequel to this fic. If you haven't I suggest you do for some context and an introduction to the characters in this story. it is a crossover fic between the Hobbit and Skyrim. This one is the same, just set in the Lord of the Rings instead. I hope you like this first chapter, and to those returning, hello again. XD**

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**On the Road Again**

**Chapter 1:**

The sky was clear and empty; the perfect setting for the birthday party of Bilbo Baggins. Amongst the crowd was Bilbo himself, his dark haired nephew, Frodo, and the tall grey wizard, Gandalf. The rest were hobbits - distant and not-so-distant relations to Bilbo.

And stood on a hill was a cloaked, hooded figure, watching. Shadows hid the figure's face. They were uninvited, but they'd come anyway. A surprise, one might say.

Moving down the hill, the stranger began to catch the attention of the party guests. Soon every one of them was warily watching the cloaked figure as they walked up to the hobbit for whom this party had been thrown.

Bilbo watched them approach. The stranger was over twice as tall as him. A fine sword was at their side, and they were clothed entirely in black, scaly armour, over which was a black cloak, held together at the front with a star-shaped brooch. They came to a stop in front of him, before kneeling down.

When the figure raised its head, the party lights illuminated its face. Brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin and a young face. Bilbo laughed merrily. "My dear!" He cried, making her smile and place a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

The woman winked. "I haven't seen you for so long I thought I'd come and say 'hello'." She said. "It's rather convenient that it is also your birthday."

Bilbo laughed and embraced the woman. The two drew apart, and she again stood at her full height. They both saw the entire collection of hobbits watching them closely. Bilbo scowled. "Oi!" He barked. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

The hobbits laughed and began dancing and chatting again. The woman looked down at her old friend. "How have you been all these years, Bilbo?"

"Oh, fine, fine," Bilbo muttered. "Received another mouth to feed not long after coming back here."

"Your nephew. Yes, I know."

Bilbo frowned. "How?"

She laughed. "Gandalf, of course!"

Bilbo huffed. "I shouldn't be surprised to find out he's involved."

"And why would that be?" A new voice asked.

Bilbo gave him a mock-glare. "Because you always seem to be involved."

Gandalf chuckled, before turning to the woman. "It's been a while, Ira."

The woman - Ira - threw back her hood, a smile on her face. "Longer than I might have hoped, certainly. But less time than I thought it'd be. I didn't expect to find you here, Gandalf."

Gandalf chuckled again. "I wouldn't miss Bilbo's birthday," he responded lightly.

"Frodo, my lad, come!" Bilbo beckoned to a dark haired hobbit. Frodo walked forward cautiously, eyeing Ira with both suspicion and interest in his blue eyes. "Frodo, this is an old and dear friend of mine, Ira. Ira, this is my nephew, Frodo."

Ira bowed, a hand over her heart, an elvish greeting she had begun to use forty years previously. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Frodo Baggins."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," Frodo said, bowing also.

Ira looked amused. "No offence, dear Bilbo, but I cannot see how he is related to you. He is far more polite than you were on the day of our first meeting."

Bilbo scoffed. "I was perfectly polite when we met!"

"Unless trying to stop us from entering your home now counts as polite, then I'm afraid you weren't." Ira commented with an arched eyebrow.

Bilbo huffed. "Well, you can hardly blame me. My house was full of dwarves!"

Ira, Gandalf and Frodo laughed, and Bilbo then walked away, muttering under his breath. Frodo turned to Ira. "You went with uncle on the quest, then?"

Ira nodded, and for a moment, pain flashed across her eyes. His innocent question had reminded her of the ones who fell during that awful final battle. "I did."

Frodo smiled. "Bilbo's told me about that, though regrettably not all of it."

"I can't blame him for leaving out some of the details," Ira stated calmly. "Some weren't particularly pleasant."

Frodo nodded. "I can imagine." Gandalf smiled at them both, before he too left. "I still find it difficult to believe that Bilbo did all those things."

"What things?" Ira asked, sitting on an empty bench. Frodo sat beside her.

"He claimed to save your lives from trolls."

Ira smirked. "He did."

Frodo's eyebrows lifted. "He also said that you saw stone giants in the Misty Mountains."

Ira shivered. "Don't remind me," she muttered. "That's true as well, although it ended not so well for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I almost died that day. Had it not been for Alduin, I may well have done."

"Alduin..." Frodo thoughtfully chewed the inside of his mouth, before his eyes widened. "The black dragon!"

Ira nodded. "Yes, that's him."

"Where is he now?"

"He remained in Rivendell while I travelled here. For what reason, I'm not sure, but it must be important. He is not a massive fan of elves, to be honest."

Frodo nodded pensively, before asking, "What about in Goblin Town? Bilbo said that he fell down a long way and found Gollum in a cave. That he had a game of riddles in order to escape."

Ira laughed. "I can't tell you about that one. Bilbo got separated from the rest of us as soon as we entered that place. The rest of us were..." Ira's eyes widened, and she trailed off. "Let's just say I'd rather forget what happened in there."

"The skin changer?"

"Beorn. Yes, that's true as well."

"And the Pale Orc - Azog, was it? - hunting you?" Ira nodded once again. Frodo frowned. "And after that? He said you were briefly caught in Mirkwood, but that you managed to free everyone. Using some special words, he told me."

Ira chuckled. "Special words... It's not quite what they are, but I'm afraid they are too complicated to really explain, so I suppose that will have to do."

"Bilbo also said you stopped in Laketown for a night, then left for the Lonely Mountain."

Ira nodded. "Yes. Of course, for Alduin and myself, that's when everything changed. Killing Smaug made us both dragons."

"And after that?"

Ira sighed. "After that things got complicated. Thorin began to get sick. Not a physical illness, but rather a sickness of the mind. He grew greedy, selfish. The gold became his obsession. He would not part with a single piece. I pretended to threaten his nephews, and for a while it cured him, but when the men from Laketown came to Erebor, they brought the elves of the Woodland Realm with them, and he refused to give them the gold he'd promised them. Your uncle decided to give the King's Jewel - or the Arkenstone, as it was also called - to Bard and King Thranduil to use as a trade. Thorin was furious. He was not at all forgiving, and instead banished Bilbo from Erebor." Her eyes closed as she talked, and there was a pain on her face. "Then came the orcs and goblins. A great battle was fought at the base of Erebor. Men, elves and dwarves formed an alliance to fight this threat. But, though we won, a terrible price was paid."

"What happened?"

"During the battle, my sister died, and so did Thorin. I had spent a very long time before then without Amicitia, and to lose her for definite so soon after finding her again... the sorrow was too much. And my dragon body couldn't cope. Dragon's hearts don't naturally feel sadness, only a lust for power, and hatred, and anger. So when the sorrow came, my body shifted to become what it is today. I returned to my original body." She closed her eyes, and a single tear slipped down her cheek as the ache in her chest flared.

"Miss Ira?" Frodo asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

Ira pursed her lips together as another tear fell. "Sorry," she said. "It is particularly painful for me to recall that day. Amicitia and I were very close, and even Thorin became a good friend of mine."

Frodo sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ira said sharply. "The past is the past. We can't change it. You least of all."

Frodo frowned. "Why not?"

Now, Ira smiled. "Because you were definitely _not _old enough to even _think_ about helping. In fact, I rather doubt you were even a thought in your father's mind."

"Oh." Frodo hesitated a long time, before asking quietly, "Forgive me if this seems rude, but, how old are you? You look like the race of man, yet seem too young to have been a part of that quest when it happened."

Ira smiled. "I am old, very old," she admitted. "The dragon blood that runs through my veins has kept me alive. I am immortal, like the elves."

Frodo seemed surprised. "Wait, you're the Dragonborn? Bilbo told me that the Dragonborn was there, but he never told me your name."

"I am indeed the Dragonborn, Frodo, although, really, I left that life behind the moment Smaug lay dead." She glanced up when Bilbo laughed heartily, and smiled fondly at the old hobbit. "It has been sixty years since I last saw your uncle. I figured he was due a visit." She then leaned in close. "I believe also that Bilbo is not the only one to share this day."

Frodo drew back, shocked. "How did you...?"

"The same answer as always: Gandalf!" Ira said with a laugh. She winked at him. "Happy Birthday, Frodo Baggins." She then stood and left, leaving the party for good without saying goodbye to Bilbo. She had a feeling she'd be seeing him again soon. The woman climbed back up the hill swiftly and silently. At the top stood a strong, black beast. He had red eyes that glowed brightly, giving him a sinister appearance, when, in truth, he was quite friendly, and extremely loyal. He snorted a greeting to Ira when she neared him, who quickly mounted him and, after sending on last look down at Bilbo's party, spurred him into a canter, leaving Hobbiton behind.

...

Just outside the town of Bree, Ira and her stallion, Shadowmere, came to a stop. Ira knocked on the main gate. It was cloudy today, the sun low in the sky. Dusk was approaching, and Ira was already late for her meeting in the Prancing Pony. The gate guard let her in without argument - Ira had visited Bree many times in recent years, and so he knew her face. Ira led Shadowmere by the reins through the town, before passing him over to a kindly hobbit who looked after the stables. Shadowmere didn't seem overly pleased by this arrangement, but Ira gently stroked his nose to calm him down. She then turned and entered the Prancing Pony.

Ale and smoke. Both scents assaulted her nose at once, followed then by the smell old sweat. Not particularly pleasant, if she was being honest with herself, though by now, Ira was used to it. She straight away went to the far left hand corner and sat herself down. A man in ranger clothes not unlike the ones she wore was sat beside her. Neither looked at each other, and, after a moment, she spoke.

"You wanted to meet me? Why?" Ira asked, barely moving her lips and not turning to face him.

The ranger didn't glance at her either. "I plan on making a voyage to Moria. I wanted to invite you along, since you have friends there."

Ira smiled to herself. "You've been planning this for some time." It wasn't a question.

"Indeed. It has held my interest for a long while."

Ira almost shook her head. He was just so predictable sometimes. "Go if you wish. I have my own duties to attend to, so I must go to Rivendell."

"Very well. I don't know how long I will be there."

Ira nodded this time, but the movement was very slight. "Say hello to the lads for me, will you?"

"I will."

Ira then stood and approached the bar, her hood still up and shadowing her face. She and the ranger had picked up titles in this place, and were the ones they lived by in the area surrounding Bree. He was Strider, while she was Naira, a name she had been given by Strider (and recommended by Gandalf). It was Quenyan for 'Heart of Flame'.

The barkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, was immediately tense and wary. While she and Strider had never done anyone any harm, the locals were particularly distrustful of them, especially since they rarely showed their faces. But, more than that, ever since Ira became a shape-shifter with a dragon as her other form, people have felt wary around her, and it always took a long time for her to gain their trust.

"What can I do for you?" Butterbur asked in a slightly trembling voice.

"A room for the night, please."

The barman nodded and shuffled away, before returning with a key. "It's for your usual room. Same price as normal, please."

Ira dropped the money on the desk, before picking up the key. She turned around and headed for the stairs, giving Strider an inconspicuous wink as she did. He simply rolled his eyes in response.

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**Hi again! Well, there's the first update. This story has officially begun! Unfortunately that announcement is somewhat lacking in cheers, applause, and fanfares of brass instruments. Ah well, you can't have everything in life. Hope you enjoyed it, and until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Only own Ira :)**

**A/N: Wow... Suffice to say I got a complete _barrage_ of email notifications from all the follows and such yesterday. It's so heart-warming to know I have so many loying readers. Love you guys, and thank you so much xxx**

**Alright, so, big thanks to the following people (and this is going to take a while): wertheren, vogelflip123, valkyrie9043, srickards, sillystring-roxs-the-earth, rmnlegion, rebade, rainbowloves394, pukmuk, pixelerrante, nicklaren, mistyuri778, , jeffs87, jaaaaawwwnnn, i-have-a-jar-o'-dirt (A/N: all-one-needs-is-a-jar-o'-dirt), guardsmansparky, fraz hopper, dwarf of Erebor, dffnnet, crazy shakin, bale626, alchemista, Zanondalf1992, War Wraith, Ulquiorra9900, ThirteenMoney, TerrorPain, Terminoitu, Shutzereu, Ranockz, Ny'Kle, NotzaLyra, Nargus, Mac Gustah, LuciferEllyllSefira, LordMesirix, Kyuubi no Kitsune no Youko, Kamouri Shadow Kage, Krustyrob, Kiyoshi Kozue, Ithys the Wanderer, HardyxLover, General Hawk, Fryst Nikoda, Fingolfin is really cool, ExtremelyAddictedReader, Est-Saarlane, Dragonchampion, Demon-Kagetsuki, Deathbatdrone, Death Berry Wizard, CP Nightshade, Br2nd66, Bookworm5556, BlackSheep the Sage, AyameShirayuki, 3333ssss, unaidedfriend, Ruler of Kings, Reyeleye34, Master of the Dark Abyss, Lord Jace, FrankSinatra24, EddBlackheart, Argontep, Aerosyne, lord harry peverell and SoUL CHRoNiCLER for following/favouriting already! (I have a lot of fun reading through the names you guys have. There are some really awesome ones out there XD)**

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**Chapter 2:**

It took days of hard riding to reach Rivendell, but with Shadowmere's extraordinary strength and stamina, the elven city was within view quicker than it should have been. Ira was expecting to find the form of a large, black dragon waiting for her on the plains of the valley, but no such sight greeted her. The land was bare of any creatures. After shaking off her concern, Ira jumped easily off Shadowmere's saddle and led him by the reins towards the main entrance to Rivendell. The guards stood there bowed to her in greeting, and she returned the bow as she passed under the archway.

The novelty of Rivendell had faded slightly with Ira's many visits, but she still found it breath-taking in its beauty. She had simply surpassed the stage where she would openly stare at it upon arriving. After leaving Shadowmere with the stable hand, Ira went in search of Alduin, or Lord Elrond. Or both.

She found Lord Elrond in the library, musing over a particularly thick tome that Ira knew she would have no patience with reading. Alduin, however, was nowhere to be seen. Elrond lifted his head and smiled gently at her, somehow managing to hide all his emotions even with the smile. All elves had a knack for that, and it annoyed Ira a lot. People who hid their emotions so well were... difficult to trust.

"I was not expecting you, Ira," he said, his tone polite and calm. "How may I help you?"

"I was wondering if I might take rest here for a month or so," she said. "I have no immediate plans, my partner is currently taking a trip to Moria, and Alduin is nowhere to be seen."

"Of course, my dear," the elven Lord said with a smile. "You are welcome as long and as often as you wish."

Ira bowed her head. "Thank you, my Lord."

She turned to leave, but Elrond called her back. She turned to him with a questioning look. "Alduin said he had an important meeting to attend. He should be back in a few days if all goes to plan."

Ira smiled. "Thank you for telling me."

Even after such a long time, Ira still hated formalities. She had come to know many Lords and Princes and Kings in her life, but most she could act normally around. It was only really upon arriving in Middle Earth that she began to use formalities more often. But that didn't mean she liked them. Ira moved swiftly to her room, where she dumped her provisions on the bed and headed for the balcony. It was good to be back, even if she knew the peaceful nature of the elven city would eventually drive her insane.

...

A week later, Ira could be found sat on posh chair with a book in her hands. Occasionally she would scribble notes around the words, but mostly she just read. The sound of rustling fabric caused her to lift her head, and she beamed when a familiar head of whiting hair and blue eyes met her.

"Bilbo!" She said, snapping the book shut and rushing towards him. She was dressed in a royal blue (Durin blue, she secretly called it in her head), light and elegant elven dress. She wasn't especially fond of dresses, but she respected they needed to be worn in places like this, or she would risk insulting the residents with her dark and threatening armour. And she didn't want that.

"Ah, Ira!" Bilbo smiled widely. "I did wonder if I would see you here."

"What are you doing so far from home?" She asked him, crouching in front of him so they were level with one another.

Bilbo smiled. "I've grown tired of the Shire. I plan to make one last voyage to Erebor, before I will return here to live out the rest of my days. And, hopefully, finish my book!"

Ira smiled. "I can take you there now, if you want. I would say Fili and Kili are due a visit by now. It's been almost a decade since the last time I saw them."

"I would greatly appreciate the lift," the old hobbit said with a smile, "although I beg that you wait until morning. These old bones aren't used to walking so far, nor sleeping on the ground."

"Of course, Bilbo," Ira replied with a smile. "I do hope you dropped in on William, Bert and Tom." Bilbo gave her a confused look, causing her to chuckle. "The trolls, Bilbo."

The hobbit shook his head. "How do you still remember their names, even now?"

"You can't fault me for having a good memory," Ira replied. She winked. "Meet me in the entrance courtyard two hours before noon tomorrow, and we can make the trip to Erebor."

Bilbo nodded. "Until then, Dragonborn."

"Indeed, Master Burglar," she said with a smirk, before standing up and returning to her seat, opening her book and returning to studying it. Bilbo walked away silently.

...

The next morning came much sooner than Ira would have liked, since she had little sleep, but the prospect of seeing the company again stopped her from becoming irritable. She dressed in her thick armour and wrapped her freshly cleaned cloak around her neck, doing up the brooch by her neck. She then fastened her sword at her hip and hid a dozen other knives and daggers around her person - a habit she'd gotten from the blonde haired King.

She reached the courtyard at the entrance to Rivendell before Bilbo, though only by a few minutes. While she waited, Ira hummed mindlessly to herself, twirling a knife in her fingers. She smiled and placed it back in its home under her right gauntlet when Bilbo arrived, carrying neither walking stick nor pack, for they would likely be back in a day or so. Nodding to each other, they wandered out of the Last Homely House for a few minutes, until they were a safe distance away for Ira to transform. Her bones groaned within her body for a brief moment while the shift happened, making Ira frown. She'd noticed in the last year or so that it was growing increasingly troublesome and slightly more painful, too, to change into her other body. She was growing concerned.

After Bilbo scrambled (with a great deal of difficulty, it seemed) onto her back, Ira pushed off from the ground, spreading her wings and flying straight towards the Lonely Mountain. Even at this distance, with such heightened senses, Ira could see its peak.

The trip took only half an hour, and the whole time Ira could hear Bilbo humming a merry little tune to himself, over and over. There were a few scared screams sounding in Esgaroth and Dale when she flew over and near them, and a few arrows were even shot, but they did not hinder her, nor bother her.

"_**Are you hurt, Bilbo?**_" She asked him when she started to lower herself to the ground.

"No, no, I'm quite alright," he assured her, before adding, "though I don't enjoy being shot at all that much."

Ira chuckled low in her throat just as her feet touched the ground. "_**Just be thankful my body acts as a shield for you.**_"

Bilbo slid off her back, and Ira changed into her human form. Her clothes were still intact - a trait which she was glad to have when shifting form (having to remove clothes or have them torn to shreds when changing into a werewolf was a pain in the ass) - though her hair was windswept and wild. Scowling, Ira ran her fingers through it while she and Bilbo walked towards Erebor. The guards immediately stopped them.

"Who are you, and what is your business here?" The first one, who had ginger hair and a low beard which he had tied around his waist like a belt, demanded of them.

"I am Ira, and this is Bilbo Baggins," the dragoness replied calmly. "We are here to see our friends."

The two guards exchanged a look, before the ginger nodded. "If you'll follow me, my lady, my lord."

He then led them into Erebor. Ira smiled as she looked up at the grand stone kingdom. This part had changed little since her last calling nine and a half years prior to this day, but Ira knew there were parts of the mountain that would no doubt be unfinished even six decades after the mountain was reclaimed.

When they entered the throne room, it was to find Fili sat alone at a long table to the side of the throne, going through would looked to be a hellish amount of paperwork. He looked up when he heard them. The guard bowed. "You have visitors, your Majesty."

He stepped aside and allowed Ira and Bilbo to step forward. Fili looked no different to the year they'd spent on the quest, though Ira had learnt this was because dwarves changed appearance only in their growing years, and about ten years before their deaths. The blonde King smiled. "Ira! It's about time you dropped in. And Bilbo as well! This _is_ a surprise."

"Hey, Fee," Ira greeted casually, completely ignoring the scathing looks she was getting from the few guards in the room. "How is everything?"

"About as good as it could be. Kili and I were both rewarded with bairns in the time that's passed since out last meeting."

Ira scowled. "I told you to send me word as soon as that happened!"

Fili raised an eyebrow and finally stood up. "I did. You're a hard woman to track down, Ira. The letter's probably lost now."

Ira sighed. "You could have sent a raven. They know how to find me."

"I did that as well," Fili said, "although that ended badly, I would imagine, since the poor fellow never returned."

Accepting this at last, Ira grinned and hugged the King tightly. "Either way, it's good to see you, zeymah."

"And you, namad." Fili then faced Bilbo and hugged him, too. "Don't think I've forgotten about you, Master Bilbo. Though you've changed somewhat since our last meeting."

"Age tends to do that to a hobbit," Bilbo said.

Ira smirked. "So, where's that troublesome brother of yours?"

"In the training grounds, I'd imagine." Fili replied, leading the way out of the room through a side door. "He's training the newest recruits for the guard."

"That sounds like fun," Ira commented idly.

Fili shrugged. "Like all things, it has its good and bad moments."

As they turned a corner, Ira and Bilbo both simultaneously noticed engravings on the wall. "Either this is new," Ira said as she gazed over them, "or I've never been down this corridor before."

"I commissioned the engravings to be out in seven years ago," Fili said. "So, it's new to you."

The images were almost like a timeline. They showed all the triumphs and falls of Durin's folk since the day Smaug's attacked (that day being depicted in the first image). After that came the Battle of Azanulbizar, and followed after that was presumably some sort of event in the Blue Mountains. Some sort of festival, it appeared to be. Then came the first meeting of the company at Bag End. Ira heard Bilbo grumbling to himself when he saw the picture, something along the lines of getting the layout of his dining room wrong. After that was an image of Smaug, Alduin stood above him with his blade piercing Smaug's skull. Ira noticed herself in the corner, slumped and weak as she had been on the day. And then, the worst of them all: the Battle of the Five Armies. It looked just like a great mass of bodies at the foot of the mountain, though if one looked close enough, they could differentiate between the dwarves, elves, men and orcs. She noticed she and Alduin were absent from this picture.

"How did your people take the presence of three dragons among your armies?" Ira asked them.

Fili frowned. "Actually, most people believe that is a lie. For dragons to pick sides is rare, but for three dragons to pick the same side...? Most believe that is a little too far fetched." Ira rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. Fili quickly changed the subject. "Come on, I thought we were going to see Kili."

"How has everyone been?" Bilbo asked curiously.

Fili shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. Balin, Oin and Ori have gone to Moria to recolonize it."

"My partner's visiting that place as we speak," Ira said with a smile.

"Partner?" Fili queried with a raised eyebrow.

"Not in the romantic terms," she quickly explained. "He's my working partner. A fellow ranger."

"Ah, so you took uncle's advice. Was it easy getting in?"

"No," Ira supplied bluntly. "It took me many months to even gain their trust, although once they'd allowed me into their ranks, it was easy enough to get to where I am."

"And where are you?"

"Protecting the life of someone very important. Not that he knows that, because if he did, he would order me to leave." Ira chuckled. "No, to him we are simply partners. And we've become good friends, too."

"What's his name?"

"Which one would you like?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "His _actual_ name."

"Aragorn," she replied, "or Estel?"

"Oh, Mahal, just forget it!"

Ira laughed and clapped Fili on the shoulder. They turned one final corner and reached the training grounds, where a dozen dwarves were sparring. Ira immediately picked out Kili, who was practicing his archery and helping who she assumed to be a new and eager student of his to do the same.

He grinned when he saw his brother. "Hi, Fili. How can we help?"

"We have visitors, Kee," Fili said, gesturing towards Ira and Bilbo.

Kili beamed when he saw them, before quickly shouting to the soldiers that they were done for the day. The dwarves filed orderly away from the training grounds, sending Ira and Bilbo curious looks as they passed, but never speaking. "So, to what to do we owe this pleasure, my friends?" Kili asked.

"Formality still doesn't suit you, Kili," Ira commented lightly.

Kili rolled his eyes and then gently hugged Bilbo. "You've gotten frail, Bilbo," he teased light-heartedly.

"And don't you forget it!" Bilbo exclaimed haughtily. "You can't throw me around like you used to."

"Excuse me," Kili huffed, indignant, "I do believe most of the throwing around was of your own will. You did, after all, agree to come on the quest with us, consequences be damned."

"Alright, you two, stop squabbling like an old married couple," Ira said, making them both splutter, and Fili threw his head back, roaring with laughter. "I believe I have a niece or nephew (or both) to meet."

"Actually," Fili corrected, "you have two nephews to meet. And a goddaughter."

Ira's eyes grew wide with shock. "You made me... a godmother?"

"My first born," Kili stated proudly. "We were going to name you the godmother anyway, but she looks just like you, which also helps."

"So my godchild is also my niece?"

"Yes," the brothers said together.

Ira knelt down and pulled Kili into a hug. "Thanks, Kee. It means a lot for you to still trust me, even after almost ten years without so much as a glance."

Kili chuckled. "You deserve it. Besides, it might persuade you to visit more often."

"Good luck with that. I'm visiting as often as I can as it is."

"Liar," Kili disagreed gleefully. Ira rolled her eyes. "Come on, there are some people you'll want to meet."

* * *

**Right, so I'm using the book timeline for this fic - there being 17 years between Bilbo's party and the time when Frodo reaches Rivendell with the Ring. However, I'll skip most of the 17 years, I just have a few events to cover before I can do that. Bear with me, and hopefully I'll be able to keep it interesting enough for you *crosses fingers***

**Until next time**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Ruvin, Kamir, Eleniel and Matryd (pronounced May-trid) - you'll learn who they are in the chapter.**

**A/N: Hi again! So you'll find out what Alduin's been up to in this chapter (it might surprise you) and I know a lot of you've been wondering. I had a few reviews from people saying they were curious about it.**

**Big thanks to: jsun25, jack fangs, ThePaleMongrel, Rohvania, Darjones, siamra27, fullmetal1985, Michaelkoc1, and Zelara for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**rmnlegion: Okay, dude ;)**

**Ny'Kle: Unfortunately not - Ira won't join Frodo until Rivendell. Sorry :/**

**Mac Gustah: Hehe, I'm glad you think so. And, you'll find out now.**

**Guest: Well, here it is!**

**jsun25: Mmm, not quite enemies...**

**james: I won't don't worry :)**

**Rhettbutler: No, she'll be in Dunland for that bit, so more or less half a world away. Ira will be affected by the Ring only a little bit (certainly not as much as Boromir will be), but it'll mostly just make her angry a lot.**

**gabiey: Well, thanks anyways :) Better late than never, right? And I'm glad you're already looking forward to more. Means a lot.**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

These people Ira and Bilbo were to meet turned out to be Fili and Kili's wives. Ira was surprised to find Kili's wife was an auburn haired elf. She looked vaguely familiar, though Ira couldn't recall where they'd met before.

She smiled. "_Mae govannen,_" Ira greeted in elvish.

The elleth raised her eyebrows, but returned the greeting. Then, she tilted her head to the side. "_Iston i nîf gîn. (I know your face.)_"

"I would say the same," Ira said, reverting back to the common tongue. "Certainly, you seem familiar, but I cannot place where I saw you before."

"Ira," Kili said with a soft smile, "this is Tauriel. We met her when we visited Mirkwood."

"Visited being the generous term," Fili muttered.

"My memories of that place are somewhat lacking," Ira admitted. "Don't forget I spent a lot of that trip to the elven halls unconscious or with the King."

Kili shrugged. "Either way, this is Tauriel."

Ira rolled her eyes, while Tauriel laughed quietly. "And who are you?" Ira asked, turning to face Fili's wife, who was a strong dwarf with a fair amount of beard (but not masses) and thick, blood red hair.

"Matryd, my lady," she replied, bobbing into a curtsey.

"Oh, no, away with the formalities, _please_." Ira more or less begged. "Talos knows how much I hate those. Call me Ira. At your service." She then bowed her, smiling when Matryd did.

"Da?"

Ira turned to see three young dwarves staring shyly up at Ira and Bilbo. Fili smiled. "Come here, Ruvin." He knelt down and allowed a young male with blonde hair and bright green eyes to throw himself into his arms. Fili swept the boy up into his arms. He then faced Ira with a smile. "Ira, Bilbo, this is Ruvin, our son."

Bilbo smiled. "He looks a lot like you, Fili," he said. "Except for the eyes. He has his mother's eyes, it seems."

"And her personality, too, thankfully," Kili teased.

Ira chuckled. Kili then introduced the other two. "Those two munchkins are both ours," he said, and Ira noticed that he had entwined his fingers with Tauriel when saying that. "Our youngest, our son, Kamir, and our daughter, Eleniel."

They both bowed cautiously, still eyeing her warily. Ira smiled. "You have beautiful children, all of you."

Tauriel crouched down. "_Eleniel, hênnya, ettulir. (Eleniel, my child, come here.)_"

Eleniel moved towards her mother with distinctive elven grace. "Yes, nana?"

Tauriel smiled. "This is your godmother, Eleniel. Go on, say hello."

Eleniel looked warily at Ira, who knelt down to her level and smiled encouragingly. "Hi," the girl said shyly.

Ira grinned. "_Mae govannen, vanimelda, (Hello, beautiful,)_" she greeted. Blushing, Eleniel gave her a shy smile. Ira held her arms open. "Do I get a hug, Eleniel?" Eleniel giggled and threw herself at Ira, who snatched her up and spun her around, making the young girl throw her head back in laughter. The two proceeded to have a quiet, secretive conversation in elvish

Fili turned to Bilbo. "How have you been, Bilbo?"

"I've been alright," Bilbo said with a smile as he watched Eleniel tug on a lock of Ira's slightly wayward hair. "I have my own to look after now, though not a son."

"A nephew, then?" Kili asked.

Bilbo nodded. "Yes. Frodo is his name, and I must say he's taken to his Tookish blood far more than I ever did." He tutted. "That boy's one step away from an adventure himself, and I've no doubt he'd accept if given the chance."

"You never explained to us what 'Tookish blood' means to you hobbits," Kili informed him.

Bilbo huffed. "Tooks are a family of hobbits who are known for being adventurous and ultimately foolhardy among the rest of the families. My mother was a Took, and the Tookish part of me was what won me over when deciding whether or not to join you."

"Perhaps we ought to pay him a visit..." Fili suggested with a grin at his brother, who immediately caught on and copied.

"You'll do no such thing!" Matryd exclaimed. "I can't have you to gallivanting off to the Shire and turning Bilbo's poor nephew into someone like you."

"Seems like you've finally picked up a restraining hand, Fee," Ira said as she re-joined the conversation, Eleniel perched on her hip, now braiding her hair. The braid wasn't as neat as dwarfish braids could be known to be, but for one so young, it was of a good quality. "It's about time."

"Oh, the restraint doesn't stop with just Fili," Tauriel piped up. "Matryd and I have our hands full restraining these two. You'd think all this responsibility would calm them down, but, alas, that is not the case."

"Well," Fili said, changing the subject quickly (again), "would do you to say to a nice meal? You're welcome to stay for as long as you like."

"I have nothing to do for a week or so," Ira said. "Unless, of course, an emergency pops up, but I doubt it will."

"Excellent!" Fili grinned. "Dinner shoulder be prepared in about twenty minutes. Matryd, Tauriel, would you mind taking Ira to her room? Kili and I will escort Bilbo."

"I know where my room is, Fee," Ira reminded him with a roll of her eyes.

"Ah, that was your old room. Your new one is closer to the throne room, bigger, and just generally better. You'll also be pleased to hear it has a balcony, so you can make a quick exit should you need to."

Eleniel giggled. "Uncle Fili thinks of everything."

"So it would seem, dear one," Ira agreed, voice quiet enough that only Eleniel and Tauriel (with her enhanced elvish ears) would hear.

"Come on, Ira, dear," Matryd said with a smile. "Ruvin, go with your father."

"You too, Kamir," Tauriel called.

"Okay, ma!" They both trotted off after their fathers.

"Auntie May, do you have a bead I can use?" Eleniel asked.

Matryd smiled and pulled a silver bead out of her pocket. It had a simple design of it, with many overlapping circles, but it was beautiful and undeniably dwarfish at the same time. Eleniel grinned and clipped it onto the end of the braid in Ira's hair. Her chest puffed up proudly at the sight.

With her empty hand, Ira pulled the braid in front of her eyes. It was a little loose and a little messy, but it was still an complicated braid, one that would take Ira many, many attempts to be able to replicate. "It's beautiful, Eleniel," she said with a smile.

"Promise me you won't take it out. Or, if it falls out, you'll come back here so I can remake it."

Ira smiled and ruffled Eleniel's hair, making her yelp in annoyance and scramble to fix it, making the women all chuckle at her antics. "I promise," she vowed. They walked in silence for the next few minutes, but a tug on Ira's heart made her suck in a breath. Eleniel looked at her in worried confusion.

"Ira?" She asked, but Ira just gently lowered her to the floor, before she took off running back towards the training grounds. She was thankful that place was open-topped. She sprinted right past the boys, who all called to her in surprise. Ira darted into the training grounds before nimbly launching herself over the railings. It was a relatively short fall to the ground, but Ira never touched it. Her bones shifted quickly, and Ira pushed herself into the air before a single talon touched the ground. She hovered for a few moments, orientating herself, before heading swiftly in the direction of the call. It was North.

Ira was expecting it to have come from the Grey Mountains, but, no, it came from even beyond that. Ira realised, with a jolt that had her pausing mid-flight, that the Shout was coming from Nirn. Most likely... Skyrim.

But the longer she stayed stationary, the stronger the pull at her chest came, and with a roar of frustration, annoyance and exasperation, Ira flew out towards her old home.

...

After three days, a dragons' wings got tired, as it turned out. Ira was barely able to stay in the sky by the time Skyrim rolled into view, though she was grateful for the knowledge she'd soon be able to land. The tugging sensation was driving her crazy, as it had become stronger and stronger with each passing moment.

Ira stopped short when she saw what had brought her here - flames engulfed all of the province. People were screaming in panic, half due to her sudden appearance, half because of the flames that were destroying their lives. Ira flew with renewed vigour towards the Throat of the World, where there were three dragons waiting for her. One gold, one red, and one as black as night. Ira landed.

"_**What is going on here?!**_" She demanded angrily.

"_**The world is dying.**_" Paarthurnax replied grimly.

"_**By your hand?**_" Ira snarled.

Alduin shifted, drawing her gaze to his. "_**It is not just Skyrim, lokaal, it is all of Nirn. The whole world is**__**burning.**_"

"_**Why?**_" That was the question to ask, but none knew the answer. Ira growled. "_**If we can do nothing to stop it, then why are we here?**_"

"_**Bahvit.**_" Odahviing stated calmly. "_**We will not be able to get everyone out, but there are some who we can.**_"

Ira snorted. "_**I doubt they will allow four dragons to help them. They will not trust us.**_"

"_**They will trust **_**you****_, Ira,_**" Alduin said calmly. "_**You are the Dragonborn, and you may have been gone for many years, but they will still remember you. You must persuade them.**_"

"_**Where is the largest number of them left alive?**_"

"**_Okulom,_**" Paarthurnax supplied. "_**They fled to the ahkriim when the fires started.**_"

"_**Then that is where we must go. How many can each of your carry, bearing in mind it is a three day journey to Mith Gol?**_"

"_**You and I should be able to take about two dozen, Ira, though most likely we can stretch it to thirty,**_" Alduin stated.

"_**We can carry about twenty,**_" Paarthurnax informed her.

Ira nodded. "_**We must be practical with our choices. Goraaniik joriin nunon. (Younger people only.)**_"

With that, she pushed off the mountain and headed North-West, towards the city of Solitude. Most of the land around the area was on fire, but the city itself had - as of yet - taken only minimal damage. While Paarthurnax, Odahviing and Alduin hovered in the air, in sight, but out of the reach of any arrows, Ira descended on the city. There were screams as she landed on top of the Castle Dour, but it drew all the attention her way. She then shifted back to her human form. There were gasps of shock.

"Who are you?!" Someone shouted.

"We are not here to harm you," Ira called out. "Do not be scared of the dragons. They are here to help."

"Help?! They're dragons, they do not help us!"

Ira scowled. "LISTEN!" She shouted, her voice making the ground quake with the added effect of her Thu'um. "This world is dying. There is no other choice. Between the four of us, we can take about a hundred of you back to the world I live in." She sighed. "We have to be practical about this," she said, quieter now, but everyone could still hear her. "In order for the people of this land to survive as long as possible, we must take all the youngest residents. Any parents who have children below the age of five may come with them, to raise them, but I'm afraid those of you who are older cannot come with us. Another path to safety may come for you, but for now, we must take they youngest out of harm's way." She then shifted back. Looking down, she addressed the frantic people again. "_**We will await you outside the gates.**_"

With Odahviing, Paarthurnax and Alduin by her side, she landed a little way from the capital city, waiting for the citizens to emerge. There were many of them. Around two dozen seemed to be children under the age of ten, and then there were another ten or so teenagers. With the help of the elders, the children were placed carefully onto the dragons' backs. Ira found herself carrying four children who were under five, and three sets of parents who were accompanying them. She also carried two teenagers, and the rest were young adults, in their twenties. In total, she carried thirty-two passengers.

"_**Ira, we must go,**_" Alduin told her.

Ira nodded and turned back to the people they couldn't save. She pitied them for their pain. "_**Do not fear death if it comes for you,**_" she told them. "_**Many of you believe in the afterlife, but can't prove it exists. I can. I have been there, and I know of the paradise that awaits you. It is not such a bad fate.**_" After tensing to allow her passengers to cling onto her scales, Ira lifted into the air, flying South with Alduin, Paarthurnax and Odahviing by her sides. She imagined it must be quite the spectacle - four dragons flying in a line, with a total of one hundred and six on their backs, taking those people to safety. Ironic, since dragons were supposed to only bring death.

Ira's wings ached, her body was stiff from staying level so as not to allow any of her passengers to fall off, but Ira refused to slow down or stop - not that she could, with the only thing stretching before her being open sea. These people depended on them, and Ira would be damned if she let down even a single one. She only preyed the dwarves would allow them to share their home, even if only temporarily.

* * *

**PLOT TWIST!**

**Ha, goodbye Nirn. Just an FYI: It's all related to the war of the Ring and Sauron etc**

**You'll see how and why soon.**

**Until next time ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Ruvin, Eleniel, Kamir and Matryd**

**A/N: Hi! So, a lot of you have been asking about the whole 'Nirn is dying' thing. I have one thing to say to that: patience, my children. All will be explained in time. Anyway, here's the next update.**

**Big thanks to: humancreeper, lordhehl123, hunterman3, ZafiRUS and Rhettbutler for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: I have, though they're not really mentioned until the council.**

**ww1990ww: Eru doesn't have power over Nirn, so He couldn't really do much. Doesn't mean there wasn't some meddling, though.**

**Ny'Kle: (Minor spoiler) The fires couldn't be put out. You'll learn why later.**

**ThePaleMongrel: Yeah, don't worry. Even High Elves (and we both know Ira doesn't like them much).**

** : Okay, that was an odd way of putting Middle Earth...**

**Terminoitu: No, no werewolves.**

**pixelerrante: I'm sorry the first one was a little... uh... peripheral. I'm basing this one more on the books, though, so it should have more 'substance'.**

**gabiey: Naww, I'm glad! Thanks for all your support!**

**Nargus: Hehe, all will become clear in time. And bear in mind it'd been almost seven centuries since Alduin was 'killed'.**

**jsun25: Well...**

**Rhettbutler: The dragons will _kind of_ be joining the war. You'll see how later.**

**james: I'm planning stuff... Just stuff... And Ira will face the Nazgûl, yes, but won't fight them one-on-one, as such.**

**rgss: Hey, dude! They are immortal, there'll just be moments when all their memories will make them tired and grouchy. That'll happen a lot in this fic, with Ira especially. And, don't worry, it wasn't just nords they saved.**

**Guest: Well, here it is!**

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

Fili almost couldn't believe his eyes when he saw four dragons flying towards them from the North, each carrying dozens of people on their backs. They landed in the gap between Erebor and Dale, allowing the people they bore to slide off their backs and onto the dirt road.

Ira quickly shifted back into her human body and looked at the Lonely Mountain. Fili was quick to move to the entrance, shouting orders as he went. "I want first aid kits, stretchers and as many healers as we can spare. Food and water are also vital. Make sure no one among that group is neglected!" He yelled, before grabbing the first pony he came across and swinging himself onto its back, urging it into a gallop. He reached the dragons and people in just under two minutes. "Ira, what's going on?"

"I know it's a big ask, Fee, but they need your help."

"Who are they? Where have they come from?"

Ira smiled sadly. "They came from my world. It's burning, and so we saved as many as we could. Most are children, though there are a few adults, too. Can you help them?"

Fili nodded. "I've already asked for healers, food and water. We'll get them somewhere to sleep, too, though we may have to ask for some help from Dale, as well."

"I'm sure that won't be an issue," Ira said with a smile. "You two are good allies."

"And let's hope it stays that way," Fili agreed with a curt nod.

Ira paused, then turned back to the people of Skyrim, who were looking scared and/or staring oddly at Fili. She understood their confusion. She stepped towards them, and immediately a hush fell over the group. Clearly they were expecting her to talk. "As much as it pains me to say, Nirn is gone," she started. "You cannot go back there, so this is your home now." She gestured to Fili. "This is King Fili, and Erebor is his kingdom. He has agreed to shelter you until you either find new homes or he can no longer do so." She smirked, before adding, "Though the latter is unlikely to come any time soon."

"Who are you?" A man asked, who was standing protectively near his wife and their young daughter. Ira recalled him being one of her passengers.

She smiled. "Someone you probably only know in legends," came the vague reply. She looked towards the mountain when the sound of approaching chatter met her ears, and she saw a relatively large crowd of dwarves coming towards them. She turned back to the group, but Fili spoke before she could.

"Any of you who need medical attention can talk to the healers, and they'll patch you up. I will make sure food and water are also distributed, as I'm sure you've had little in the past few days." This statement was met by vigorous nods. Fili smiled. "Let me or one of my associates know if you need anything. We are at your service." He bowed, and Ira supressed a laugh at just how _dwarfish_ the action was. Fili glanced at her and winked, before the two went to meet their families, who were among the crowd approaching the group.

Ira was suddenly collided with, and she looked down to see Eleniel hugging her legs tightly. She chuckled. "Hello, vanimelda." She crouched down and pulled Eleniel into her arms. "How've you been?"

Eleniel nodded. "Good." She picked up the braid she'd put in and frowned, before pulling out the bead and starting to redo it. Ira smiled at her, but turned to the others.

"Who are they, Ira?" Kili asked, looking at the group of young refugees.

"They're from my home - Skyrim. That world is ending, if it hasn't already died out, so we brought them here," Ira replied, her eyes saddening. She let her gaze fall on the three dragons still in the area, and she saw Odahviing was looking at her. She walked over to them with Eleniel still in her arms (the young girl refused to be put down, even if it meant facing three live and very large dragons. The girl had guts, Ira had to admit). "Do any of you have any idea _why_ Nirn has been engulfed in flames?" Ira asked when she neared them.

Odahviing and Alduin shook their heads, but Paarthurnax remained quiet. At least, until Ira gave him a look that very clearly said _'start talking'_.

He hummed. "_**There was something in Nirn when all the fires started. Laagnu ahzul. Something I did not recognise. It had a... vokul fraan to it. But I do not think it was from that realm.**_"

"Could it have come from Middle Earth?" Ira asked, adjusting her grip on Eleniel slightly when the girl reached into her pocket to grab a bead, moving her centre of balance as she did.

"_**Nii los korasaal, (It is possible,)**_" the dragon responded. "_**If you can breach the barrier between the worlds, others can too.**_"

"_**It must have had great power to cause so much destruction,**_" Alduin stated.

Ira agreed wholeheartedly. "That more or less narrows it down to some kind of... divine power."

"_**No Eyra would do that to their own world,**_" Odahviing commented. "_**Nii fund dreh niin nid pruzah. (It would do them no good.)**_"

"Right," Ira said with a firm nod. "That means that some other being with foul intentions somehow managed to... what?... over power them?"

"_**Atruk med tol. (Something like that.)**_" Alduin growled low in his throat. "_**And that makes them dangerous. For every Eyra to be consumed in order for the world to go up in flames, either the Eyra were weaker than they should be, or the other is stronger than anything we know of.**_"

"Or both." Ira frowned. "As much as I hate the sound of the second, I think the thought that the Aedra have been weakened is much more alarming. New threats we can deal with, even if they are extremely powerful, but for them to be able to weaken the Aedra...? This is becoming far worse than I thought it was."

"_**Zu'u rolur, (I agree,)**_" Odahviing said calmly. "_**But remember, these are just zaak at the moment.**_"

"Ideas that have a lot of merit to them," Ira grumbled. She sighed. "Okay, I think we should all play close attention to the goings on of this world in the next few years. We call on each other if there is any sign of something out of the ordinary going on, agreed?"

They all bobbed their heads in a yes, so Ira turned on her heel and walked back to Kili and Fili and their families, a deep crease between her eyebrows.

"Ira, what's an Aedra?" Eleniel asked her.

Ira's face smoothed out a little. "An Aedra is a God from my world. Powerful beings. Much like the Valar from this world."

"Are they dying?" She asked, the worry in her voice causing Ira to smile a little.

"I don't know, young one, but I'm going to find out."

Eleniel nodded, then proudly held up her braid. "Look!" Ira examined it and grinned at her goddaughter.

"You've been practicing, haven't you?"

Eleniel smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I wanted it to be perfect."

Ira chuckled. "Well, it is, so mission accomplished." Eleniel giggled.

"I didn't realise you were good with children, Ira," Tauriel said with a raised eyebrow.

Ira smiled sadly. "I've raised kids before. Back before I knew I was immortal, I adopted two kids. One was five, the other was nine. I learned my fair share when it came to raising children, although I haven't been this close to one for centuries. After losing the first two... I couldn't find it within myself to become close to any others."

"Understandable," Tauriel said, accepting Eleniel from Ira with a smile on her face. "Though I wish I could say I know how you feel."

Ira waved her off. "It's no trouble." She turned to Fili. "Is Bilbo still here?"

Fili nodded. "He was in the library, last I checked."

Ira scoffed. "I'm surprised you even _have_ a library, Fee," she teased.

Fili was offended. "Of course we do! Ori wouldn't stop nagging me about it." The group shared a laugh, before Ira headed into the mountain. After having to ask for directions to said library, Ira walked calmly along the long, stone corridors. She paused, however, when passing the tombs. After hesitating, Ira walked slowly into the two she knew.

Amicitia's was closest, and the most painful. Ira's heart still ached for her sister, though the pain had dulled somewhat over the years. She smiled when she saw the statue of her sister above her head, for it made her kind, caring sister look like such a warrior. She wasn't, though Ira knew Amicitia would appreciate being depicted in such a way. She ran her fingers over Amicitia's tomb.

"I miss you," she whispered. "It's getting easier, but that doesn't mean it's stopped hurting. I hope you're happy, wherever you are." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then turned and entered Thorin's grave. Once again she smiled at the statue of her old friend. "You were right," she told him. "Being a ranger suits me to the bone, though, like everything, it has its off-days." Glancing over her shoulder, Ira remembered the reason she'd come down this way in the first place. "I want you to know that I managed to stay alive because of your suggestion. Without the life I live now, I'm not sure I would have survived through Amy's death. It's selfish, I know, but thank you."

Ira turned away and walked with her head held high out of the tombs, refusing to acknowledge the painful ache in her heart. She wouldn't mourn over those who were living (if you could call it that) peacefully in the afterlife. They would want her to move on, and she was doing her very best to do just that.

Bilbo was the first person she saw upon entering the library. It clearly didn't get much use, though there were a couple dwarves milling around as well as the old hobbit. He smiled when he saw her. "I heard you come back," he said as a greeting. "Pretty hard thing to miss."

Ira smiled sadly. "Are you ready to go back to Rivendell, Bilbo, my friend?"

Bilbo looked around, then nodded. "I do believe I am. I've not been very productive here," he admitted. "My book needs finishing, and I know I shan't get far with it here."

Offering him a weak smile, Ira and Bilbo left the room and walked all the way back to the entrance in silence. The Skyrim refugees were being ushered inside the mountain now, and they thanked Ira shyly when they passed her. Ira smiled in response, offering no words. She stopped, however, when she saw a very young dwarfling playing with a khajiit's tail. The dwarfling's mother had a look of worry on her face, but the khajiit seemed to find the whole scene amusing, and even lifted her tail higher, out of the reach of the dwarfling, who started jumping in order to reach it. Ira's eyes softened at the sight. She was glad the dwarves seemed to be accepting the... odder races from Skyrim. She continued on outside, quickening her pace a little to catch up with Bilbo again, who had failed to notice her pausing.

"I'll miss you until we next meet," Fili said after hugging Ira. "I do hope you'll come more frequently than normal."

"I make no promises," Ira said grimly. "I have a new problem to sort out, if I can."

He nodded. "Drop in if you have a moment, though, okay? And I'll do my best to keep you up to date here."

Ira smiled. "Thanks, Fee." She turned to the others. "I'll see you all soon, I hope," she told them. "Tauriel, Ruvin, Eleniel, Kamir, Matryd - it was lovely meeting you all. Kili, good to see you again." They all gave her smiles, and Eleniel ran up to her.

She stared up at Ira with wide, innocent eyes that had Ira's heart melting. Just a tad. "Promise you'll come back," the girl said.

Ira winked. "I promise, vanimelda. As long as you promise to be a good girl for your family, and work hard until then. Deal?"

Eleniel nodded, her expression serious. "Promise."

"Good girl." She grinned at the others. "You may all want to stand back." They did as instructed, and Ira let the shift come over her body, wincing slightly at the twinge of pain that came over her at the change. If their theory about the Aedra becoming weaker was correct, it would explain a little bit why Ira's changes were becoming troublesome - they didn't have the power of Akatosh to ease the transformation. Bilbo clambered onto Ira's neck, and with one final glance at her adoptive family, Ira pushed off the air and flew West.

She didn't hear or see Eleniel looking up at her father and asking, "My godmother's part dragon?"

Kili looked down at her and smiled. "Yes, Eleniel. She is."

Eleniel grinned. "Cool."

* * *

**By the way, my school holidays are almost over - I go back on Tuesday. I should get one or two more chapter out before then, but after that, updates will likely slow. Sorry, but that's life, I'm afraid.**

**Translations:**

**laagnu ahzul: A sleepless malice.**

**vokul fraan: evil feel**

**Eyra: Aedra**

**zaak: ideas**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise I don't own :)**

**A/N: Sorry it's been a little while, but life was being pretty bitchy, so my writing has slowed all-round. Also, I watched BotFA yesterday... And cried. More than once. Not even ashamed. Anyway, here's the next update! XD**

**Big thanks to: The No-Life Emperor, Nhobdy, Barrenshadow, Shayne Rider, DiamondAir, Kamen Rider Tigon, NyxTheNight, CrazyClogs8, Bobby1090, Eaglborn, Chibielle, deadbyapril122 and Miyuki Ai Takashi for following/favouriting. Love you guys xx**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: ... You know, it seems we think alike XP**

**Mac Gustah: Well, she's all grown up now. And, yeah, school is a pain in the ass -_-**

**gabiey: Thanks ^_^**

** : The people from Skyrim will mainly stick to Erebor, where they're accepted, cause Fili's just that amazing. Ultimately, they don't have much correspondence with any races other than dwarves and men.**

**james: 1st: Interesting idea...  
2nd: Psychotic Oliphaunts? Aren't they already?  
3rd: Thanks :)  
4th: For the moment, yes. Might add another, might go back to some older ones. We'll see.  
5th: I've played it SO many times. Unfortunately my current account has met a glitch so I'm gonna have to restart it :(**

**Rhettbutler: Depends on the elves - the Mirkwood elves are pretty awful, I think. But yeah, the Tamriel elves (high elves especially) are pretty pretentious.**

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**Chapter 5:**

The next seventeen years saw Alduin, Paarthurnax, Odahviing and Ira all searching for the answer as to what caused the end of Nirn, but they found nothing except more evidence towards their original theories. Ira and Alduin's transformations became more and more difficult as time went on, until, at last, they stopped altogether. They couldn't change forms, and both were stuck as humans for the foreseeable future - their weaker form. With trapped dragon souls, the two became angsty and quick to anger, much like they had been during the quest for Erebor.

While Ira was in Dunland, a small, white dove landed in front of her and tweeted loudly to get her attention. Tied to its left foot was a small roll of parchment. After carefully untying it, Ira opened the roll and read the short message on the paper, which was written in neat elvish.

'You are required in Rivendell for a council on October 25th.'

Sighing slightly in irritation, Ira put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. A few seconds later, Shadowmere came galloping around a rock. He stopped in front of her and snorted in greeting, allowing her to mount him. Tugging gently on Shadowmere's reins, Ira urged him into a steady canter, moving away from Dunland and out towards the North.

Ira rode for almost two weeks, with few stops for rest and food, along the line of the Misty Mountains. She came across three orc packs and a party of her ranger comrades on the trip, but these only delayed her by at most half a day in total.

Ira arrived in Rivendell on the October 20th, and was greeted by Erestor, Lord Elrond's chief advisor. She was led to her room, which Elrond had given her when she kept showing up. There was a chest on the left side of her bed, full of Ira's old armour from Skyrim, and there were several weapon racks and plaques around the room, each full of swords from her travels, though one plaque held her one and only bow, which got no use. It was there mainly for show, though Ira intended to pass it on soon. There was a rack for dwarfish swords, one for elvish swords, and then three more for other swords from Skyrim and the world of men. Her current sword was an ebony sword from Nirn, though it was worn and scratched from a lot of use without repairs.

Her favourite sword was hanging on a plaque directly above her head. It was a silver blade, glinting in the light of the mid-afternoon sun, with a gold pair of angel wings on the hilt. Engraved into the hilt were runes in the dragon language, naming the sword - Angel of Death. It had been a gift from Alduin five years after the Battle of the Five Armies, and had seen a great deal of battle, but it had been damaged very little during that time. It had come from an elven smith, who had designed it as requested, though Alduin himself had carved in the name in the blade.

Ira smiled at the blade, remembering the day she was given it, before peeling off her armour and slipping into a comfortable, pale purple tunic and a pair of thick, black leggings. She traded her thick boots for a more comfortable, suede pair with thin soles - made for walking indoors. Tugging her hair out of its windswept ponytail, Ira let it fall over her shoulders.

A knock sounded on the door. "_Minno,_" Ira called.

The door opened, and Alduin stepped inside. "I do hope that meant 'come in'," he said, "because otherwise it could end badly."

Ira rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's not like there's anything you haven't seen already."

"Yes, but for propriety's sake-"

"Screw propriety!" Ira said with a laugh. "You hate it as much as I do."

Alduin shrugged, not denying it. "Your hobbit friend's injured."

"You'll have to be more specific," Ira said, tucking a knife into her boot as she did.

"I think his name was Frodo," came the response. "Stabbed by a Morgul Blade. Gandalf wondered if you had any more of those Cure Poison potions."

Ira shook her head. "No, I used my last one several years ago. Those orcs have created some especially nasty concoctions."

"Would you expect anything less?"

"No, I guess not." She paused. "Were you here simply to ask about the potion, or is there some kind of ulterior motive I don't know about...?"

Alduin chuckled. "There _is_ another reason, yes, although whether it is an ulterior motive is yet to be decided. I want to show you something."

Ira nodded. "Lead the way, then!"

Alduin offered a hand, which Ira took, and the two walked into the gardens. Alduin led her into the bushes, weaving a path that you wouldn't be able to see unless you already knew it was there. It continued for a few minutes, before leading to a meadow full of white dandelions. Ira was struck by its beauty, though in a small part of her mind she wondered what it would look like during the summer.

Alduin stopped in the middle of the meadow and gently pulled her up to him, sliding his arms around her waist. His forehead pressed against hers, and he started whispering to her in the dragon language. "_**Hi mindok Zu'u los ni pruzah voth rot, ful Zu'u fen dein daar maltiid.**_" This immediately caught Ira's attention, and she pulled back a little, wearing a look of confusion, but Alduin continued before she could question what he'd said. "**_Mu lost pah ul vahlut wah lahney, ahrk Zu'u laan wah sov nii voth hi, waan hi fen eim zey. Nid jul fen alun kos pruzah ganog fah hi, nuz Zu'u fen unt, waan tol los fos hi laan._**"

Ira was struck speechless by the declaration. Alduin arched his eyebrow in amusement as her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to find some words. At last, she managed to find her tongue again. "_**Zu'u onvok, daar eldraag zey, nuz Zu'u vis koraav hi seik fos hi saag. Ahrk Zu'u fen eim, nunon waan hi rolur wah sov mahfaeraak voth zey naal hin reid.**_"

Alduin nodded, face serious. "_**Zu'u dreh, nu ahrk mahfaeraak**_." He pulled out two identical silver bands, which Ira recognised immediately.

"Where did you find these?" She asked, picking the larger one out of his hand.

Alduin shrugged. "There was a priest in the group we rescued from Skyrim. He offered something as a payment for what we did, and I asked for these."

Ira narrowed her eyes at him. "This has been on your mind for longer than you care to admit, hasn't it?"

"Well, since it seems the end of the world is quite possible in the near future, I _did_ think now would be a sensible time."

Ira shook her head. "You're a very odd person."

Alduin smirked. "But you love me for it." He held up the smaller of the two rings. "Shall we?"

"We shall." One by one, they placed each other's rings on their left ring finger, before smiling at each other and sharing in a passionate kiss. Ira smiled. "It wasn't at all what I thought it'd be, but I'm happy we didn't have a fancy ceremony or anything."

"You would have had to wear a dress," Alduin teased with a grin. Ira smacked his arm, and he chuckled. "I know what you mean, though. I'm not sure it would have gone well if we had a proper ceremony."

Ira snickered. "Yeah. One or both of us would have just ended up Shouting the priest away, probably."

Alduin smirked his agreement. Then he sighed. "We should probably go back before they send a search party, or something. Elrond will likely want to talk to you."

"Him or Gandalf," Ira agreed with a huff. "Honestly, you have it easy with those two."

"You're just more approachable than I am."

"I'm beginning to resent the fact," Ira retorted, before taking his hand again and leading him back towards the gardens. They then split up - Alduin to go Talos knows where, and Ira to find Gandalf or Elrond. She found Gandalf sat in a chair by a bed, and in the bed was a familiar dark haired hobbit - unconscious. "How is he?" She asked, moving into the corner of the room and leaning against the wall.

Gandalf hummed. "He'll live," he said simply. "The wound will never fully heal, and he will bear it for the rest of his life."

Ira sighed. "If only Amy were still here. She would make sure he didn't have to live with the pain."

"It is regrettable, indeed, but everything happens for a reason."

Ira paused, before asking, "Can you tell me about Sauron?"

Gandalf's eyes immediately flew to hers, which held no emotion, but they were still probing him to answer her. He narrowed his eyes slightly, before consenting. "Sauron is a fallen maia, the lieutenant of Morgoth, the original Dark Lord, who is an evil vala. In the Second Age he created the Rings of Power, creating another for himself, in secret, so he could rule over all races. He was defeated in the Second Age by the Last Alliance - the armies of men and elves came together to fight him and his forces of evil."

"And what of the Rings of Power?" Ira queried. "Did he succeed in his goals to rule over the other races?"

"Partially," came the reply. "He gave three rings to the elves and seven to the dwarves, and they were all able to withstand his power. But he gave nine rings to the race of men, and the nine fell to his evil. They are now the Nazgûl, and are servants to his will. They are the ones seeking Frodo."

"Why?"

"Because he carries Sauron's secret Ring."

Ira raised an eyebrow at the young halfling, before a frown came over her face. "What about Morgoth? What's he doing now?"

"I'm not sure. He was defeated many years ago, and his injuries will not ever heal, but that doesn't mean it is impossible for him to regain his strength. Certainly, it is believed he will rise at the end of the world to fight against good in the final battle for Middle Earth."

Ira's frown deepened. "Is it possible he could have risen already?"

"It is extremely unlikely," Gandalf informed her, his own brow creasing.

Shaking her head, Ira began to pace the room. "My world is dead, as far as I know. The only theories we have been able to make are that the Aedra - our divine beings - have had their power stolen from them, so they were unable to save Nirn from its destruction. A new world may be made, but the way the last one ended is... worrying, to say the least."

"What are implying?" Gandalf asked, wary now as Ira continued to pace up and down the room.

She paused and looked at him with a haunted look in her eyes. "What if Morgoth is regaining strength by taking the power from the Aedra? Could it be possible?"

"The only way that would be possible is if Morgoth were able to find a way into the realm of your Gods."

"Aetherius," Ira said, "can be reached even by mortals. Their souls travel there after death. Even so, I know of no one - living or dead - who has seen the true forms of the Aedra. Only their spiritual forms." She shook her head. "Knowledge of the Aedra is limited. There are only two known planes in Aetherius - Sovngarde and Mantellan Crux - one of which acts as the nordic afterlife, the other as a prison for a source of great power. It is depicted as no more than a jewel, but it is rumoured that this jewel is what allowed a mortal man to ascend to become an Aedra himself." Ira sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "If Morgoth somehow made it into Aetherius, he would need to be powerful indeed to weaken the Aedra."

Gandalf leaned forward in his chair. "Have you spoken to the refugees you brought from your world?"

Ira nodded. "I went to speak to them a few months after their return. They informed me that no amount of water or time could put the fires out. They just kept growing and burning. The situation became desperate enough that centuries-old enemies became allies in an attempt to fight for their lives."

"Never-ending flames," Gandalf muttered to himself. "And there is no way of going back?"

"I don't know," Ira admitted. "I haven't tried to go back since that day. For all I know the path between the worlds has closed. Or, perhaps, the next world has already begun, with new creatures and landscapes. If that is the case, then people from the world before cannot go there. That world will have to take care of itself."

Staring at her through narrowed eyes, Gandalf pondered her words. "You have given me much to think about," he said in the end. "This subject may again be breached at the council. I will tell you my own thoughts then."

Ira nodded, before asking, "What is the council about?"

"What to do about Frodo's Ring."

"It is not his," Ira said sharply. "And do not let him think so. If what you've told me about how Sauron's plan was to corrupt and control is true, then there is a chance the Ring may try to do the same. I do not know much about the magic in this world, but I have learnt that anything is possible."

Gandalf nodded. "It is true that the Ring will try to turn Frodo against himself. We may have to remind him he carries the Ring, but does not own it."

Ira glanced at the hobbit, and her eyes softened slightly. "If he is anything like his uncle, I'm sure we have little to worry about." She then smiled in farewell to the wizard, before quietly slipping out of the room.

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**For those of you wondering, you can use the website thuum. org for a translation of the dragon language (there's a translator in the 'Language' section). I didn't put it in there just because I'm cruel that way XD**

**Until next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira and Eleniel :P**

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while, but I've been really lacking inspiration lately. The shortness of this chapter probably makes that obvious. But, I plan on watching the LotR movies this weekend (bank holiday, woo!) so hopefully I'll have gotten it back by next week.**

**Big thanks to: Rook115, Kinestic, Cybertronian Kaijuruto, CunningAmethyst (I read that and just heard Baldrick's voice saying 'I have a cunning plan' in my head. If you don't get that reference, look up Blackadder), OfficialHunt3r, LeakproofHail7, Cytramiraak and Dark Fiber for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: I'm glad you liked the dragon stuff. Sorry about getting the Valar thing wrong, though :/**

**Terminoitu: A few more - three at most, though I doubt it'll be that many.**

**Mac Gustah: Cheers! :)**

** : Perhaps. *smirks***

**gabiey: Here it is! Sorry it's short, though.**

**mmaaddnndd12-and-dementedkitty: Yup, there'll be a few of those.**

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**Chapter 6:**

A few days later, Ira noticed more and more people were arriving in Rivendell. It started when she noticed a familiar head of platinum-blonde hair wandering around, and then she started to pay more attention to the entrance to Rivendell. After the elves came a single man, and his clothing told her instantly he was a man of Gondor. Following the man came a mixed party. Dwarves came, and among them were races from Nirn - two Argonians, a single khajiit, a dark elf and two nords (their naturally stocky builds and tall bodies were what made it easy for Ira to differentiate them between the men of Middle Earth). There was also one who didn't fit in amongst the rest. Someone very familiar to Ira.

Ira went down to meet them, setting herself a somewhat hurried pace to ensure she didn't miss them. Erestor was just about to lead them to their rooms when Ira appeared. She grinned. "Gloin, Gimli, it is good to see you both again," she said, clapping them both strongly on the shoulder in greeting.

"And you, lass," Gloin said, smirking. "I think someone wants to see ya." He gestured over his shoulder, and Ira's grin widened.

"_Ira, na vedui! (Ira, at last!)_"

Ira laughed and pulled her goddaughter into her arms, before frowning. "How in the name of Talos did you manage to persuade your father to let you come?"

Eleniel giggled. "I let mother do it for me."

Ira rolled her eyes, "Lazy," she teased lightly. "_Tolo ar nin, (Come with me,)_" she said, gently taking Eleniel's hand and leading her away.

"Where are we going?" Eleniel asked.

Ira grinned back at her. "My chambers. I have something that I think you'll make good use of."

"Alright, Ira, you don't have to drag me there," Eleniel stated, laughing. Ira shot her a smirk, but let go of her goddaughter's hand regardless.

"So," Ira asked casually, "how's your training going?"

"Well enough," Eleniel replied with a shrug.

"Have you found a weapon preference yet?"

"Definitely bow," Eleniel laughed. "With both my parents favouring it, it was always going to happen."

"I suppose, but don't think you have to always follow in your parents' footsteps."

"I know that," Eleniel told her dismissively. "I'm just better with a bow."

"Fair enough."

Ira opened the door to her room and let Eleniel go in first. The girl whistled. "You can tell you get around a lot," she said, admiring Ira's weapon collection. Ira made a beeline for her bow, which she pulled of its plaque, along with a quiver of arrows.

"Here," she said, passing them to her goddaughter, who took them with an expression of shock on her face.

"What are these?"

Ira rolled her eyes. "It's an ebony bow from my home. Unfortunately not the best there is, but I think it's the best for _you_. The arrows are the same." She smirked. "Now, do you prefer lighter armours - like your elven kin - or heavier armours?"

Eleniel took a moment to answer. "Uh, lighter ones."

Ira nodded once. "Then I have something else for you."

"Oh, Ira you don't-"

"Hey, I'm allowed to spoil my goddaughter from time to time, aren't I?" Ira challenged, smirking victoriously when Eleniel didn't say anything else. "It's too small for me, anyway, so it'll just lie in my chest for years without anyone using it. I thought you'd be a good bearer of it."

"Why did you ask whether I preferred light or heavy armour?" Eleniel asked, running an appreciative hand over her new bow.

"Because I have spare armour of both types," came the simple response. Ira crouched down in front of her chest and opened it, before pulling out a set of black armour. It was made entirely of thick leather, and was made to fit the body. Along with it came a pair of gloves and a pair of boots. There were silver engravings in the armour. Ira smirked. "It'll even match your bow," she said, grinning when Eleniel's eyes more or less bulged out of her skull.

"Where did you get this?" Eleniel breathed, running her hands over the thick leather.

Ira shrugged. "I don't really remember who made it. The only thing I do know is that my father had it made for me when I started my training. Hopefully it'll fit you."

"Why've you kept it so long?"

Ira scratched the back of her neck. "Sentimental reasons, I guess, though I'm not really sure what they are. It's not like it's the only thing I own that reminds me of my father."

"I can't accept this!"

"You can and you will," Ira stated sharply, her voice making it clear that she would not take 'no' as an answer. "Now, there's a screen in the corner; go and get changed. I want to make sure it fits before I pass it over to you officially."

Rolling her eyes, Eleniel walked towards the screen to do as instructed. While she did that, Ira pulled her dark hair up into a practical braid that ran down her back. She was just finishing it off when Eleniel stepped out from behind the screen. The young girl looked exasperated, but there was a smile slowly creeping onto her face. She grabbed the bow that she had left on Ira's bed and placed it over her back, swinging her quiver onto her shoulders as well.

"Well?" She asked. "How do I look?"

"Like someone you _definitely_ do not want to mess with," Ira told her with a bark of laughter. "It suits you, in a way."

"Only in a way?"

Ira shrugged. "It makes you look... dark, I guess."

"And you don't?" Eleniel countered.

"I never said that," Ira retorted. "Seriously, though, it looks good on you. And it'll keep you safe - it's very tough leather."

"Thank you, Ira," Eleniel said seriously. "I don't know how I can ever repay you for this."

Ira smiled kindly down at her goddaughter. "Just make sure that if you ever find yourself facing a battle you wear it. It'll save your life more than once, I guarantee it."

"Is there something about this you're not telling me?" Eleniel asked, raising a confused eyebrow. "You make it sound like it's magic armour, or something." To this, Ira just smiled. Eleniel frowned and was about to speak again, before a knock sounded on her door.

"Yeah?"

Lady Arwen poked her head around the door, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Ira, but you are needed with my father in his office."

"Sure thing," Ira acquiesced. "Would you mind directing Eleniel to her room?"

"Of course." Arwen bobbed into an elegant curtsey, while Ira just cocked her head to the side in thanks. She then strode out of the room, leaving her goddaughter in the hands of the elven Princess.

Ira's journey to Elrond's office was short and peaceful, with no one to cross paths with along the way. She knocked sharply on the door, before entering when she heard him telling her to do so.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" Ira asked, moving towards the desk he was stooped over.

"Yes," Elrond said, glancing up from the piece of parchment in front of him. He slowly straightened. "You are concerning me, Ira."

"Concerning you how?" Ira asked, slightly insulted by the statement.

Elrond frowned. "Your... episodes. Your frequent and sporadic bouts of anger. If it wasn't just you being affected I would perhaps worry a little less, but Alduin seems to have a much stronger grasp on his temper."

"He's lived and been a dragon far longer than I have," Ira said with a shrug. "It's only to be expected he has a better handle on it."

"Perhaps," Elrond muttered, "but I do not think so. I think you're growing _tired_."

"Of what?"

"Everything. Life. I've seen it before in my own kind - except they become quiet and reserved. They hide themselves from the world." Elrond gently took her shoulders in his hands and squeezed. "You are directing your anger towards people who do not deserve it. I am not asking you to fight it, because I am sure you do not need to be asked, I only ask that if you feel yourself becoming angry, you make sure you are well away from anyone else. The people here are beginning to grow uncomfortable and fearful of your presence here."

"Scared of the temperamental half-dragon," Ira muttered with a scowl which wasn't directed at him, specifically, but rather at nothing and everything all at once. "I see the logic behind it, but I am slightly insulted that anyone would assume I would hurt anyone here, angry or not."

"You haven't done so yet, it is true," Elrond admitted, "but it could change very quickly, and I would rather not risk it."

Ira bowed her head. "I understand. Is that all, my lord?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes, thank you, Ira." Nodding her head, Ira left the room in silence, when, in reality, the knock she had just taken had stirred something deep within the pit of her stomach. She couldn't tell what it was even when she tried her hardest, and with her long history behind her. It was a feeling completely foreign to her, one she was deeply disturbed by.

It couldn't be good, that was for sure.

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**Another filler chapter. The council should be next, though, so hopefully it'll be more interesting.**

**Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own only Eleniel and Ira**

**A/N: So much for watching the movies... I didn't even get to the Council of Elrond before I had to go and do something else. We're completely tearing down our games room (which is wear the computer usually lives), so I might be slow to update for a few weeks while we sort that out. I'll do my best, though. Btw, this is only the first part of the council, and I'm using stuff from the book, the movie, and my own mind, to help include the additional people in the council.**

**Big thanks to: rgss, Anenace, ruler of the ice dragons, The Dead Baron and garrusvakarian304 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: I think I would be too...**

**rgss: That comment made me laugh. I do wonder that myself XD**

**gabiey: Naww, thanks. You know, every single time I read one of your reviews, it makes me smile. Thank you so, so much x**

**garrusvakarian304: Here ya go ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

"Where's Tauriel?"

Ira rolled her eyes. "No 'hello', just straight to the red-head?" She smirked when she saw Legolas' face. "She stayed in Erebor with the others. It's just Eleniel from that lot."

They were sat in the council room, waiting for the arrival of the others. There were among the first to arrive, and, as such, had a little time to catch up. "Of course it's good to see you, Ira," the Mirkwood Prince said with a huff. "I didn't think I had to say it."

"Hey, relax. I wasn't being serious."

"It's impossible to tell with you."

Ira smirked. "That's intentional. Hence why I told you I was joking - how would you know otherwise?"

The Prince simply rolled his eyes. For the next few minutes, people rolled in, until the last two arrived - Frodo and Gandalf. Elrond bid them sit near him, before he introduced each member of the council. Ira was not surprised to notice that Alduin was not there; he had even less patience with politics than she did.

Not all that was spoken during the council need now be told. Much was said of events in the outside world, especially in the South, and in the wide lands East of the Misty Mountains. Ira had heard many rumours about most of these things, but was deeply troubled when Gloin brought a new tale to her ears.

"It is now many years ago," said Gloin, "that a shadow of disquiet fell upon our people. Whence it came we did not at first perceive. Words began to be whispered in secret: it was said that we were hemmed in a narrow place, and that greater wealth and splendour would be found in a wider world. Some spoke of Moria: the mighty works of our fathers that are called in our own tongue Khazad-Dum; and they declared that now at last we had the power and numbers to return."

"Much is said of Moria by the outside world," Ira said, drawing all eyes there. "I myself travelled there thirty years ago, in the company of Balin, Ori and Oin from Thorin Oakenshield's company, along with several others. I heard whispers among the dwarves, fears that a nameless fear that may still dwell in those halls. I admit I did not stay long after arriving."

"Balin sent news to us," Gloin said with a nod, picking up where she left off. "At first, it seemed good: messages reported that Moria had been entered and a great work had started there. Then, there was silence, and no word has come from Moria ever since." He sighed heavily. "Then, about a year ago, a messenger came to King Fili, but not from Moria - from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Fili to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning hobbits, of what kind they were, and where they dwelt. 'For Sauron knows,' said he, 'that one of these was known to you on a time.' As you can imagine, we were greatly troubled by this, and we gave no answer."

"And yet," Ira said again, a deep-set frown of her youthful face, "his message was clear: Bilbo is sought by the Enemy."

"Indeed. And Fili sent us to learn, if may be, why he desires a little ring, one the messenger claimed to be the least of rings. But also, we crave the advice of Elrond," here, he nodded to the elf Lord, "for the shadow grows and draws nearer. We discovered that messengers have come also to King Brand of Dale, and that he is afraid. We fear that he may yield. Already war is gathering on his Eastern borders. If we make no answer, the Enemy may move men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Fili also."

"And that is the purpose of this council," Elrond said, standing up. "This council was summoned so all may understand why Sauron desires this so-called 'little ring', which is very much not what it truly is." He turned to Frodo, who was sat beside his uncle. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo Baggins. It is time that all corners of Middle Earth learn of what this Ring has the power to do."

In an instant, all eyes fell on Frodo. Ira knew well what was happening to him by the emotions flickering on and off his face: he was suddenly shaken by shame and fear. There was a conflict within him, as if he didn't want to show the Ring, but at the same time was loathing its touch. The Ring gleamed and flickered as he held it up before them in his trembling hand.

"Behold Isildur's Bane," said Elrond gravely.

Ira's eyes were glued to the Ring, unable to move away from the simple piece of jewellery. Within her, her dragon stirred, hissing out its discomfort. Dragons were not evil creatures, they were simply selfish, and Ira had enough human in her to know of just how dangerous having this Ring in her possession would be. So, with great effort, she moved her eyes from the Ring, to Frodo's face, only to find him and many others already staring at her.

"Never before have I felt such power, nor such evil," she said, in a vaguely haunted voice. "I do not know what it is that does it, for I have little understanding of this seemingly simple and innocent band of gold, but it must be grave indeed, to have my dragon so stirred."

"Your dragon?" Boromir, the Lord of Gondor that Ira witnessed arriving just a few days prior, asked. Ira noticed many in the group tensing at the words, but those who knew her remained calm.

"She is the Dragonborn of Nirn's people," a blonde nord said, speaking up for the first time. "An ancient hero from ages long past, with the soul of a dragon. She can change her shape, and a dragon is her other form. It was she, along with another shifter, whose presence I notice is not among us, and two full-bred dragons, that brought us from Skyrim to Erebor in the East. It is her power that helped to save us."

"Unfortunately, I can change my shape no longer. And this is the main reason _I _am here," Ira said, a new look of immense worry in her eyes. "I had a conversation with Gandalf a few days ago, shortly after Frodo's arrival in Imladris, discussing the possible reason behind it. Seventeen years ago, I returned to my old home of Skyrim, only to find the world engulfed in flames. They were timeless and uncontrollable. Nothing could put them out. The Divines, the Gods of Nirn, would not have allowed the world to be engulfed in such a way. It is Alduin, first-born of Akatosh, that must be the one to bring about Nirn's ending, and only when the time is right. Together, Gandalf and I discussed the possibility that, somehow, the Gods of Nirn were overpowered, and that the destruction of Nirn is the result of an external force. Morgoth comes to mind, and I doubt the Valar would have yet noticed, as they are likely to be focusing on what Sauron is doing to _this _world. Since that conversation I have had a good long while to think about it, and I believe I know the reason for the flames - Akatosh, the Chief Deity, is the God of Time. He is also a representation of endurance and invincibility. If his powers were somehow manipulated, it would be plausible that the flames that engulfed my old home were how they were."

"So you can no longer change you form?" Eleniel asked, frowning.

"No, I cannot." She glanced down at the Ring again, distrust clear as day in her blue eyes. "And if Sauron's destruction is the only way to bring the Valar's attention back to Morgoth, and my world may yet be reborn, then I believe it is with this Ring we must start. Too many innocent people are dying on its behalf. It is a curse upon this land, and all lands."

"The Ring is a gift!" Boromir argued, standing up. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Can we not use this Ring? Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of _my_ people, are _your_ lands kept safe. Give us the weapon of the Enemy. Let us use it against him."

"You cannot wield it," Aragorn said, speaking up for the first time since the council's beginning. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And who are you," Boromir asked, "and how do you know of such things?"

"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Elrond; "and he is descended through many fathers from Isildur of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief of the Dúnedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk."

"Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked, the doubt and disbelief evident in his voice.

Beside Frodo, Bilbo began to stir impatiently. Evidently he was annoyed on his friend's behalf. Standing up suddenly, he burst out:

_All that is gold does not glitter,  
__Not all those who wander are lost;  
__The old that is strong does not wither,  
__Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
__From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
__A light from the shadows shall spring;  
__Renewed shall be blade that was broken:  
__The crownless again shall be King._

"Not very good perhaps," said the old hobbit, "but to the point - if you need more beyond the word of Elrond. If that was worth a journey of a hundred and ten days to hear, you had best listen to it." He sat down with a snort, before turning to whisper to Frodo.

Aragorn smiled at him, then turned to Boromir again. "For my part, I forgive your doubt," he said. "Little do I resemble the figures of Elendil and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in the halls of Denethor. I am but the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. I have had a hard life and a long; the leagues that lie between here and Gondor are a small part in the count of my journeys. I have crossed many mountains and many rivers, and trodden many plains, even into the far countries of Rhun and Harad, where the stars are strange." He paused, and, upon noticing the Son of Gondor was expecting his to continue, he did so. "But my home, such as I have, is in the North. For here the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in the long line unbroken from father unto son for many generations. Our days have darkened, and we have dwindled. But this I say to you, Boromir, ere I end. Lonely men and women are we, rangers of the wild, hunters - but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy; for they are found in many places, not in Mordor only."

"Tales of the Dúnedain are few," Boromir said. "You, as a kind, are very secretive."

"We must be." Ira said, for she too was a ranger, and she knew of the trials and troubles they faced. "In your eyes, Boromir, Gondor is a stalwart tower, but we have played another part, in the shadows. Many evil things there are that your strong walls and swords do not stay. I know the people of Gondor, of Minas Tirith especially, and you know very little of the lands beyond your bounds. Peace and freedom? The North would have known little but for us. Fear would have destroyed them many aeons ago. But when dark things come from the houseless hills, or creep from the sunless woods, they fly from us. What roads would any dare to tread, what safety would there be in the quiet lands, or in the homes of simple men at night, if the Dúnedain were asleep, or were all gone into the grave?"

"And less thanks have we than you," Aragorn took up. "Travellers scowl at us, and countrymen give us scornful names. 'Strider' I am to one fat man who lives within a day's march of foes that would freeze his heart, or lay his little town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so. Ira is right: we work in the shadows. That has been the task of my kindred, while the years have lengthened and the grass has grown. But now, the world is changing once again. A new hour comes. Isildur's Bane is, indeed, found. Battle is at hand. The Sword that was Broken, the blade of Elendil, shall be reforged. I will come to Minas Tirith."

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**I thought that was a good place to stop. Hopefully the next chapter will be up very soon.**

**Until then!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira and Eleniel**

**A/N: Okay, so it seems that the council is going to be in three chapters... Hmm...**

**Big thanks to: PaintedKoi for following. Thanks dude :)**

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**Mac Gustah: Sure, that's a good idea :)**

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**Chapter 8:**

"Isildur's Bane is found, you say," said Boromir. "I have seen this bright ring in the halfling's hand; but Isildur perished ere this age of the world began, they say. How do the wise know that this ring is his? And how has it passed down the years, until it is brought hither by so strange a messenger?"

"That shall be told," said Elrond.

"But not yet, I beg, master!" Cried Bilbo. "Already the sun is climbing to noon, and I feel the need of something to strengthen me."

Eleniel let out a pleasant laugh, drawing more than one pair of curious eyes her way. "Such is a hobbit's way - they always think of their stomachs before all else." Her voice held such fondness that any insult that may have been taken by her words was lost.

Elrond smiled as he looked down at the elderly hobbit. "Come, tell us your tale. And if you have not yet cast your story into verse, you may tell it in plain words. The briefer, the sooner shall you be refreshed."

"Very well," said Bilbo. "I will do as you bid. But I will now tell the true story, and if some here have heard me tell it otherwise" - he looked sidelong at Gloin and Ira - "I ask them to forget it and forgive me. I only wished to claim the treasure as my very own in those days, and to be rid of the name of thief that was put on me. But perhaps I understand things a little better now. Anyway, this is what happened."

To some there Bilbo's tale was wholly new, and they listened with amazement while the old hobbit, actually not at all displeased, recounted his adventure with Gollum, at full length. He did not omit a single riddle. He would have given also an account of his party and disappearance from the Shire, if he had been allowed; but Elrond raised his hand.

"Well told, my friend," he said, "but that is enough at this time. For the moment it suffices to know that the Ring has passed to Frodo, your heir. Let him now speak."

Then, less willingly than Bilbo, Frodo told of all his dealings with the Ring from the day that it passed into his keeping. Every step of the journey from Hobbiton to the Ford of Bruinen was questioned and considered, and everything that he could recall concerning the Black Riders was examined. At last, he sat down again.

Galdor, an elf from the Grey Havens, suddenly spoke up. "The wise may have reason to believe that the halfling's trove is indeed the Great Ring of long debate, unlikely though it may seem to those who know less. But may we not hear the proofs? And I would ask this also. What of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel - if he knows the things that we have heard?"

"The questions that you ask, Galdor, are bound together," said Elrond. "I had not overlooked them, and they shall be answered. But these things it is the part of Gandalf to make clear; and I call upon him last, for it is the place of honour, and in all this matter he has been chief."

"Some, Galdor," said Gandalf, "would think the tidings of Gloin, and the pursuit of Frodo, proof enough that the halfling's trove is a thing of great worth to the Enemy. Yet it is a ring. What then? The Nine the Nazgûl keep. The Seven are taken or destroyed." At this Gloin stirred, but did not speak. "The Three we know of. What then is this one that he desires so much? There is indeed a wide waste of time between the River and the Mountain, between the loss and the finding. But the gap in the knowledge of the wise has been filled at last. Yet too slowly. For the Enemy has been close behind, closer even than I feared. And well is it that not until this year, this very summer, as it seems, did he learn the full truth.

"Some here will remember that many years ago I myself dared to pass the doors of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, and secretly explored his ways, and found thus that our fears were true: he was none other than Sauron, our Enemy of old, at length taking shape and power again. Some, too, will remember also that Saruman dissuaded us from open deeds against him, and for long we watched him only. Yet at last, as his shadow grew, Saruman yielded, and the council put forth its strength and drove the evil out of Mirkwood and that was in the very year of the finding of this Ring: a strange chance, if chance it was.

"But we were too late, as Elrond foresaw. Sauron also had watched us, and had long prepared against our stroke, governing Mordor from afar through Minas Morgul, where his Nine servants dwelt, until all was ready. Then he gave way before us, but only feigned to flee, and soon after came to the Dark Tower and openly declared himself. Then for the last time the council met; for now we learned that he was seeking ever more eagerly for the One. We feared then that he had some news of it that we knew nothing of. But Saruman said nay, and repeated what he had said to us before: that the One would never again be found in Middle Earth.

"'At the worst,' said he, 'our Enemy knows that we have it not and that it still is lost. But what was lost may yet be found, he thinks. Fear not! His hope will cheat him. Have I not earnestly studied this matter? Into Anduin the Great it fell; and long ago, while Sauron slept, it was rolled down the River to the Sea. There let it lie until the End.'" Gandalf fell silent, gazing Eastward from the porch to the far peaks of the Misty Mountains, at whose great roots the peril of the world had so long lain hidden. He sighed. "There I was at fault," he said. "I was lulled by the words of Saruman the Wise; but I should have sought for the truth sooner, and our peril would now be less."

"We were all at fault," said Elrond, "and but for your vigilance the Darkness, maybe, would already be upon us. But say on!"

"From the first my heart misgave me, against all reason that I knew," said Gandalf, "and I desired to know how this thing came to Gollum, and how long he had possessed it. So I set a watch for him, guessing that he would before long come forth from his darkness to seek for his treasure. He came, but he escaped and was not found. And then, alas, I let the matter rest, watching and waiting only, as we have too often done.

"Time passed with many cares, until my doubts were awakened again to sudden fear. Whence came the hobbit's ring? What, if my fear was true, should be done with it? Those things I must decide. But I spoke yet of my dread to none, knowing the peril of an untimely whisper, if it went astray. In all the long wars with the Dark Tower treason has ever been our greatest foe.

"That was seventeen years ago, around the time the natives of Nirn came to this world. Soon I became aware that spies of many sorts, even beasts and birds, were gathered round the Shire, and my fear grew. I called for the help of the Dúnedain, and their watch was doubled; and I opened my heart to Aragorn, the heir of Isildur."

"And I," said Aragorn, "counselled that we should hunt for Gollum. Too late though it may seem. And since it seemed fit that Isildur's heir should labour to repair Isildur's fault, I went with Gandalf on the long and hopeless search."

Then Gandalf told how they had explored the whole length of Wilderland, down even to the Mountains of Shadow and the fences of Mordor. "There we had rumour of him, and we guess that he dwelt there long in the dark hills; but we never found him, and at last I despaired. And then in my despair I thought again of a test that might make the finding of Gollum unneeded. The ring itself might tell if it were the One. The memory of words at the council came back to me: words of Saruman, half-heeded at the time. I heard them now clearly in my heart.

"'The Nine, the Seven, and the Three,' he said, 'had each their proper gem. Not so the One. It was round and unadorned, as it were one of the lesser rings; but its maker set marks upon it that the skilled, maybe, could still see and read.'

"What those marks were he had not said. Who now would know? The maker. And Saruman? But great though his lore may be, it must have a source. What hand save Sauron's ever held this thing, ere it was lost? The hand of Isildur alone.

"With that thought, I forsook the chase, and passed swiftly to Gondor. In former days the members of my order had been well received there, but Saruman most of all. Often he had been for long the guest of the Lords of the city. Less welcome did the Lord Denethor show me then than of old, and grudgingly he permitted me to search among his hoarded scrolls and books.

"'If indeed you look only, as you say, for records of ancient days, and the beginnings of the City, read on,' he said. 'For to me what was is less dark than what is to come, and that is my care. But unless you have more skill even than Saruman, who has studied here long, you will find naught that is not well known to me, who am master of the lore of this city.'

"So said Denethor. And yet there lie in his hoards many records that few now can read, even of the lore-masters, for their scripts and tongues have become dark to later men. And Boromir, there lies in Minas Tirith still, unread, I guess, by any save Saruman and myself since the kings failed, a scroll that Isildur made himself. For Isildur did not march away straight from the war in Mordor, as some have told the tale."

"Some in the North, maybe," Boromir broke in. "All know in Gondor that he went first to Minas Anor and dwelt a while with his nephew Meneldil, instructing him, before he committed to him the rule of the South Kingdom. In that time he planted there the last sapling of the White Tree in memory of his brother."

"But in that time also he made this scroll," said Gandalf; "and that is not remembered in Gondor, it would seem. For this scroll concerns the Ring, and thus wrote Isildur therein:

_The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of Elendil, lest a time come when the memory of these great matters shall grow dim._

"And after these words Isildur described the Ring, such as he found it.

_It was hot when I first took it, hot as a glede, and my hand was scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain of it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth neither its beauty nor its shape. Already the writing upon it, which at first was as clear as red flame, fadeth and is now only barely to be read. It is fashioned in an elven-script of Eregion, for they have no letters in Mordor for such subtle work; but the language is unknown to me. I deem it to be a tongue of the Black Land, since it is foul and uncouth. What evil it saith I do not know; but I trace here a copy of it, lest it fade beyond recall. The Ring misseth, maybe, the heat of Sauron's hand, which was black and yet burned like fire, and so Gil-galad was destroyed; and maybe were the gold made hot again, the writing would be refreshed. But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain._

"When I read these words, my quest was ended. For the traced writing was indeed as Isildur guessed, in the tongue of Mordor and the servants of the Tower. And what was said therein was already known. For in the day that Sauron first put on the One, Celebrimbor, maker of the Three, was aware of him, and from afar he heard him speak these words, and so his evil purposes were revealed.

"At once I took my leave of Denethor, but even as I went northwards, messages came to me out of Lórien that Aragorn had passed that way, and that he had found the creature called Gollum. Therefore I went first to meet him and hear his tale. Into what deadly perils he had gone alone I dared not guess."

"There is little need to tell of them," said Aragorn. "If a man must needs walk in sight of the Black Gate, or tread the deadly flowers of Morgul Vale, then perils he will have. I, too, despaired at last, and I began my homeward journey. And then, by fortune, I came suddenly on what I sought: the marks of soft feet beside a muddy pool. But now the trail was fresh and swift, and it led not to Mordor but away. Along the skirts of the Dead Marshes I followed it, and then I had him. Lurking by a stagnant mere, peering in the water as the dark eve fell, I caught him, Gollum. He was covered with green slime. He will never love me, I fear; for he bit me, and I was not gentle. Nothing more did I ever get from his mouth than the marks of his teeth. I deemed it the worst part of all my journey, the road back, watching him day and night, making him walk before me with a halter on his neck, gagged, until he was tamed by lack of drink and food, driving him ever towards Mirkwood. I brought him there at last and gave him to the Elves, for we had agreed that this should be done; and I was glad to be rid of his company, for he stank. For my part I hope never to look upon him again; but Gandalf came and endured long speech with him."

"Yes, long and weary," said Gandalf, "but not without profit. For one thing, the tale he told of his loss agreed with that which Bilbo has now told openly for the first time; but that mattered little, since I had already guessed it. But I learned then first that Gollum's ring came out of the Great River nigh to the Gladden Fields. And I learned also that he had possessed it long. Many lives of his small kind. The power of the ring had lengthened his years far beyond their span; but that power only the Great Rings wield.

"And if that is not proof enough, Galdor, there is the other test that I spoke of. Upon this very ring which you have here seen held aloft, round and unadorned, the letters that Isildur reported may still be read, if one has the strength of will to set the golden thing in the fire a while. That I have done, and this I have read:

Ash nazg durbatulk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."

The change in the wizard's voice was astounding. Suddenly it became menacing, powerful, harsh as stone. A shadow seemed to pass over the high sun, and the porch for a moment grew dark. All trembled, and the Elves stopped their ears.

"Never before has any voice dared to utter the words of that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey," said Elrond, as the shadow passed and the company breathed once more.

"And let us hope that none will ever speak it here again," answered Gandalf. "Nonetheless I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond. For if that tongue is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let all put doubt aside that this thing is indeed what the wise have declared: the treasure of the Enemy, fraught with all his malice; and in it lies a great part of his strength of old. Out of the Black Years come the words that the Smiths of Eregion heard, and knew that they had been betrayed:

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them."

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**Okay, sorry it's quite drawn out. It should end next chapter :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel, and Ghardaz. The rest belong to Tolkien or Bethesda**

**A/N: So, this is the final scene of the council. Woohoo! Finally, we can get to the more interesting stuff. This contains a bit more movie script in it, mainly because I couldn't miss out the 'one does not simply' quote.**

**Big thanks to: werewolf35 and jacob1132 for following/favouriting.**

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**rgss: There were Tamrielians (probably not the word, but oh well) there, and I guess you'll find out.**

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**Chapter 9:**

"Know also, my friends," Gandalf continued, "that I learned more yet from Gollum. He was loath to speak and his tale was unclear, but it is beyond all doubt that he went to Mordor, and there all that he knew was forced from him. Thus the Enemy knows now that the One is found, that it was long in the Shire; and since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, he soon will know, already he may know, even as I speak, that we have it here."

All sat silent for a while, until at length Boromir spoke. "He is a small thing, you say, this Gollum? Small, but great in mischief. What became of him? To what doom did you put him?"

"He is in prison, but no worse," said Aragorn. "He had suffered much. There is no doubt that he was tormented, and the fear of Sauron lies black on his heart. Still I for one am glad that he is safely kept by the watchful elves of Mirkwood. His malice is great and him a strength hardly to be believed in one so lean and withered. He could work much mischief still, if he were free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand."

"Alas! alas!" cried Legolas, and in his fair elvish face there was great distress. "The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."

"Escaped?" Cried Aragorn. "That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?"

"Not through lack of watchfulness," said Legolas; "but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts."

"You were less tender to me," said Gloin with a flash of his eyes as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the elven King's halls.

"You shouldn't dwell on something that happened almost eight decades ago, Gloin," Ira stated with a hint of a smile. "I do recall that you were in those dungeons no more than a few hours."

Gloin sighed, but nodded his head in acquiescence, and Legolas continued. "In the days of fair weather we led Gollum through the woods; and there was a high tree standing alone far from the others which he liked to climb. Often we let him mount up to the highest branches, until he felt the free wind; but we set a guard at the tree's foot. One day he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind to climb after him: he had learned the trick of clinging to boughs with his feet as well as with his hands; so they sat by the tree far into the night.

"It was that very night of summer, yet moonless and starless, that orcs came on us at unawares. We drove them off after some time; they were many and fierce, but they came from over the mountains, and were unused to the woods. When the battle was over, we found that Gollum was gone, and his guards were slain or taken. It then seemed plain to us that the attack had been made for his rescue, and that he knew of it beforehand. How that was contrived we cannot guess; but Gollum is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy are many. The dark things that were driven out in the year of the dragon's fall have returned in greater numbers, and Mirkwood is again an evil place, save where our realm is maintained.

"We have failed to recapture Gollum. We came on his trail among those of many orcs, and it plunged deep into the forest, going South. But ere long it escaped our skill, and we dared not continue the hunt; for we were drawing nigh to Dol Guldur, and that is still a very evil place; we do not go that way."

"Well, well, he is gone," said Gandalf. "We have no time to seek for him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen."

"There is a stirring in my heart at his mention," Eleniel said, eyes solemn. "I am positive he has a part to play, though for good or evil, I cannot say."

"That is something that only time can answer," said Gandalf. "And now I will answer Galdor's other questions. What of Saruman? What are his counsels to us in this need? This tale I must tell in full, for only Elrond has heard it yet, and that in brief, but it will bear on all that we must resolve. It is the last chapter in the Tale of the Ring, so far as it has yet gone.

"At the end of June I was in the Shire, but a cloud of anxiety was on my mind, and I rode to the Southern borders of the little land; for I had a foreboding of some danger, still hidden from me but drawing near. There messages reached me telling me of war and defeat in Gondor, and when I heard of the Black Shadow a chill smote my heart. But I found nothing save a few fugitives from the South; yet it seemed to me that on them sat a fear of which they would not speak. I turned then East and North and journeyed along the Greenway; and not far from Bree I came upon a traveller sitting on a bank beside the road with his grazing horse beside him. It was Radagast the Brown, who at one time dwelt at Rhosgobel, near the borders of Mirkwood. He is one of my order, but I had not seen him for many a year." Ira smiled briefly at her amusing memory of Radagast, with a pack of orcs trailing after his sled, which was being led by giant rabbits. "'Gandalf!' he cried. 'I was seeking you. But I am a stranger in these parts. All I knew was that you might be found in a wild region with the uncouth name of Shire.'

"'Your information was correct,' I said. 'But do not put it that way, if you meet any of the inhabitants. You are near the borders of the Shire now. And what do you want with me? It must be pressing. You were never a traveller, unless driven by great need.'

"'I have an urgent errand,' he said. 'My news is evil.' Then he looked about him, as if the hedges might have ears. 'Nazgûl,' he whispered. 'The Nine are abroad again. They have crossed the river secretly and are moving Westward. They have taken the guise of riders in black.'

"I knew then what I had dreaded without knowing it."

Around this time, Ira lost interest in the conversation. She, after all, knew what was coming - some long-winded tale of how the wizard had betrayed Gandalf. She'd heard many before, and they never interested her.

So instead, her mind focused more on her own problem. While she knew it was far worse for Alduin, having a trapped dragoness inside her was hardly a walk in the park. She was becoming dangerous; not just to others, but to herself as well. What would happen if she didn't find a way to control her temper? Would she lose all sense of humanity? Would her dragon finally force its way free of its restraints? She didn't want to imagine.

And what of the people of Nirn? This world was not theirs by birth, and yet they had lived in it long enough for it to become their home. Would they do anything to help save this world, or allow it to fall? Ira thought it unlikely. There were some cold people who had come across from Skyrim, but they were not cruel.

"What did you do to him?" Cried Frodo in alarm, breaking Ira from her thoughts. She briefly wondered what they were now talking about, and how long she was musing. "He was really very kind to us and did all that he could."

Gandalf laughed. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I did not bite, and I barked very little. So overjoyed was I by the news I got out of him, when he stopped quaking, that I embraced the old fellow. How it happened I could not guess, but I learned that you had been in Bree the night before, and you had gone off that morning with Strider."

Then Ira lost interest again, and instead started mindlessly humming a song in her mind, eyes slightly glazed over as she focused on the song and the song alone. It was one her sister had written when they were little. It was strangely close to the Ira of this day; over 600 years later.

_This life that we call our own  
Is neither strong nor free;  
A flame in the wind of death,  
It trembles ceaselessly._

_And this all we can do_  
_To use our little light_  
_Before, in the piercing wind,_  
_It flickers into night:_

_To yield the heat of the flame,_  
_To grudge not, but to give_  
_Whatever we have of strength,_  
_That one more flame may live._

Ira jerked almost violently when she came back to reality, causing a few of the more sharp-eyed to glance her way for a moment. Gandalf had finished speaking, it seemed, and now Elrond got to his feet, slowly, drawing all eyes to him. Ira unconsciously sat a little bit straighter, and she wasn't the only one.

"The news of Saruman's betrayal is ill news," the elvish Lord said, his eyes sombre. "But during Gandalf's tale it became clear to me that we have but one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

"Well," Gimli grunted, hefting his axe into his hands. "What are we waiting for?"

Ira jumped off her seat and dashed forward, catching the handle of Gimli's axe just before it hit the Ring. He glowered slightly at her. "Do not waste a perfectly good blade, Gimli," she said. "If the Ring could be destroyed so simply, I'm sure it would have been by now."

Elrond smiled slightly at Ira, who returned to her seat. "The Dragonborn is right, Gimli, son of Gloin," Elrond said calmly. "The Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft that we here possess. It was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."

There is a long silence, though Ira wasn't surprised - no one would willingly step forward and walk towards certain death with the Enemy looking for the one thing you carry. Well, almost no one...

"One does not simply _walk_ into Mordor," Boromir said, with the tired exasperation of someone who'd had to explain the same thing a dozen times already. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this." He shook his head. "It is folly."

"Numbers do not win a battle," Ira said, "strategy does. Do you think the dwarves would have made it within fifty leagues of the Lonely Mountain if they had an army? Definitely not. But they did make it, and it is because there were so few of them. An army may be able to force its way into Mordor, though I agree you would likely need more than ten thousand, however, one or two could probably find a way to enter the Black Lands unseen, and therefore unchallenged."

"And if we fail?" Boromir questioned aggressively, standing up. Ira glowered at him. "What happens when Sauron gets his hands on what is his?"

Almost instantly, everyone was on their feet, shouting out either insults or just random gibberish that sounded completely blurred together. Ira pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. _Never again,_ she thought, _will I attend such a council._

Losing all patience, Ira jumped to her feet and used her Thu'um to strengthen her voice, yelling, "_**Zu'u vaat waan hi dreh ni pah vuth tinvaak daar ziist Zu'u fen Zaan hi vau grindol! (I swear if you don't stop talking this second I will Shout you off a cliff!)**_" Eleniel, who had a little knowledge of the dragon language, having been taught occasionally by Ira and/or Alduin, smirked.

Before Ira could speak again, however, little Frodo Baggins got to his feet. "I will take it," he said, his voice surprisingly strong. Everyone looked at him in surprise, though a smile twitched at Ira's lips. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." Then his confidence wavered. "Though... I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo," Gandalf said with a gentle smile, though Ira could see there was anguish in his eyes, "as long as it is yours to bear."

"If by my life, or death, I can protect you, I will." Aragorn made his way calmly towards the hobbit and bowed before him. "I give you my sword."

"And my bow," Legolas said.

"And my axe," added Gimli, who, when moving to stand behind the dark haired halfling, sent the elf Prince a smug look. Said elf just grimaced slightly.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," Boromir said softly, and there was a great deal of respect in his grey eyes. "If this is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Ira sent her goddaughter a glare when she, too, stood up, along with a strong orc from Skyrim, whose name, if Ira remembered right, was Ghardaz. "You have my service, as well, Master Frodo," Eleniel said with a bow, sending him a cheeky grin, before moving to stand next to Gimli.

The orc seemed to unnerve many people, but Ira found comfort in his presence. It was a faint reminder of her first home. "This was not our home," he said gruffly. "I was brought here when I was just a wee lad. But it puts my people in danger, and so you have my axes, as well, young halfling."

Ira sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustrations. "I swear," she said, drawing eyes her way, though she was looking smilingly down at Frodo, and Bilbo, too. "You Bagginses are the most troublesome hobbits about. Forget the Tooks, it's _you_ we should keep an eye on." She winked at the slightly abashed older hobbit, before saying, "I've spent a long time exploring this world, without much purpose. I think I'm quite ready for that to change. You have my blades and Voice for as long as you have need of it."

"Hey!" Ira wasn't even surprised when Sam came charging out from the nearby undergrowth. "Mr Frodo's not going nowhere without me," he said, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not," Elrond said, more amused than annoyed.

"Wait, we're coming too!" Ira put her face in her hands as Merry and Pippin charged into the room. "You'd have to send us home tied in a sack to stop us!" Merry said proudly.

"I've been there before, so I recommend you retract that statement before he agrees to take you up on that offer," Ira said with a smirk down at the halfling.

Elrond chuckled, before them looking them over. "Twelve companions," he mused aloud. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Not twelve," said a familiar voice from over the Lord's shoulder. "Thirteen."

* * *

**For those of you who get the Doctor Who reference, I take my hat (even though I don't have one) off to you.**

**Until next time, my preciouses**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz.**

**A/N: Ack, sorry it's been a while. Hopefully updates will pick up in pace over the next week or so, since I'm off school.**

**Big thanks to: Theoneandonlymrpotato (AWESOME NAME!), andrewrodriguez6433, Lieutenant Paladine, xarvet, Miko 56, LCluvanime and karnillaofnorn for following/favouriting. Cheers, guys!**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: Ha, see, that's the sort of response I like ;)**

**Rhettbutler: Yes, there will be changes (one rather major one is explained in this chapter). In the hobbit books, the dwarves were in Mirkwood for a few days, yes, but remember Ira used her 'magic words' to get them out by bending Thranduil to her will...?**

**rgss: OMG! Dude, I officially love you. Can't say no to a fez.**

**Mac Gustah: Thanks for the offer, but I've already been given a fez. XD**

**kalani. gapido: No probs ;) Interactions between Ghardaz and Gimli may be, at times, somewhat amusing, since dwarves and orcs are both stubborn as mules.**

**ThePaleMongrel: I know. I know... XP**

**gabiey: Nice to have you back :) Thanks.**

**HoodieNinja476 (now THAT is a name): They can't fly, cause they've had their powers drained.**

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

Stuffing the necessary equipment in her bag, Ira didn't notice the sound of near-silent footsteps approaching her until a hand gently took hold of her elbow. She recognised the warm callouses immediately, having spent many years getting used to the feel of them.

She turned to face the black haired man, who had a raised eyebrow. "What?" She asked, realising there was that annoying glint to his eye that usually appeared when he was up to something.

He shrugged. "Nothing," he said, "though I suppose it would be good to mention we probably have another two months or so before we leave; Elrond sent out a few scouting parties across this side of the mountains, and they shan't be back for a long while."

Ira sighed and let her pack sag onto the bed, before spinning on her feet and flopping backwards onto her mattress, arms outstretched and dark hair fanning out around her head. "That would have been nice to know a little earlier."

Alduin chuckled. "Deal with it," he said simply.

Ira lifted her head and gave him a flat look that had him rolling his eyes, before he sat on the bed beside her and watched her as she began idly fiddling with the silver ring on her finger. She glanced at him, then noticed that the sword at his hip was the one she had given him on their first night with the company, at Bag End. It made her realise just how much she missed forging, and just how long it had been since she'd last done it. With that in mind, the Dragonborn sprung onto her feet (somewhat catching Alduin off guard, not that he'd ever admit it), and quickly left the room, walking at a hurried pace towards Lord Elrond's office, where she asked for permission to use his forge. He was surprised, but after she assured him she very much knew how to use it, he gave his consent.

Half an hour later, Aragorn found her working the forge, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she continued to work. She had used up a few of her remaining fire salts in making it even hotter; a hint she had picked up in her early forging years by a kindly man called Balimund. She was crafting a pair of dual ebony axes, at the request of her new orc friend. Ghardaz had intercepted her on her way and asked if she could do him a favour.

"You appear to be a woman of many talents," Aragorn said as he leaned against a wall, watching her with a ranger's eye.

Without looking up from her work, Ira replied, "Hard not to when you've lived as long as I have. Forging was actually one of the first things I ever learnt." She then chuckled slightly. "But, actually, there are many who are more skilled than I who live a mortal life. You know just how awful I am with a bow, or with magic, for that matter."

"That's simply because you don't have any patience with it. Bows are more difficult to start with than swords, but you tend to become an expert far quicker. As with magic... I think you choose not to learn because it hurts you too much."

Sighing, Ira paused, an idle tear gathering in the corner of her eye. "It's never hurt this much before," she said quietly. "I've had many good friends that have died, heck, I had children who died, and it was never this bad."

Aragorn sent a sympathetic look her way. "Amicitia was, in every way, your other half. And that is the difference."

"Do you ever miss her?" Ira asked.

Aragorn nodded. "I do, although I was only a child when I last saw her."

Ira chuckled. "I remember that meeting," she said, a bit of mirth back in her voice. "I do believe you compared Amy and I to Elrond's twin sons. I had no idea at the time, but right now, I take a little insult in that."

Chuckling, Aragorn defended himself. "You can hardly blame me; I was ten at the time, and was working from only what I could see. I didn't know you then."

Ira waved him off. "I wasn't being serious, so don't fret." She then set to work on the axes again, while Aragorn just watched her in silence. After a few minutes, however, he silently slipped out, leaving her to work on her own. Ira used the heat and the slowly gathering ache in her muscles to put her sister out of her mind.

...

Ira slumped back into her bed several hours later, bearing a couple of burns on her hands, and a thin layer of soot in her hair. She couldn't be bothered to wash it out, and so instead fell asleep without changing or cleaning herself. She had a confusing dream that night.

_The world around her was indistinct and blurry, seemingly just a mix of colours. There was light shining towards her from every angle, but it was neither uncomfortably dim nor too bright. Beneath her feet, something _felt_solid, but there was nothing visible. She was floating._

_After a moment or two, shapes began to appear, dully at first, then with increasing clarity. It took very little time for Ira to realise where she was - Shor's Hall, in Sovngarde. The only thing was, this time, she hadn't gone there herself. Something her pulled her in. The halls were overflowing with people, all drinking and laughing merrily. None seemed to notice her at first, but then, one by one, they turned around to face her. Shock registered on many faces, and then, Ira noticed someone shoving her way through the crowd towards her._

_A grin broke onto her face when she saw an old friend of hers. "Gormlaith," she greeted._

_"What in Shor's name are you doing here again?" The old warrior asked, frowning._

_Ira shrugged. "I don't know." She looked around. "I see you coped well enough with the sudden rush of hundreds of people."_

_Gormlaith chuckled without humour. "This isn't even a quarter of them. Many have chosen to live outside the halls, simply because there isn't enough space for everyone in here."_

_Ira raised an eyebrow. "That's worrying."_

_"Hardly. It was always going to happen."_

_Jumping, Ira spun around to see Alduin stood there with his arms folded over his chest, a scowl in place. "Oh, Talos, _please_don't tell me your inside my head." Ira grumbled, rubbing her forehead in frustration. _

_"I'm not. We're just having the same experience, it would seem."_

_"Who's that?" Gormlaith asked, understandably suspicious._

_"You don't want to know the answer to that, trust me," Ira said before Alduin said anything that would cause a whole hall of angry, skilled warriors to turn on him. "Suffice to say you can trust him."_

_"Do you?"_

_"If I didn't, I wouldn't have married him," Ira said with a small shrug. "So..." She glanced around. "Do any of you have any clue as to why we've been summoned here all of a sudden?" This question was met by many shaking heads. A sudden warmth spread behind her, and Ira turned to see a familiar form in front of her, blazing with white light. She, along with everyone else in the room, swiftly got onto one knee, bowing before their Lord._

_"Rise, Dragonborn. And you, my son." Ira and Alduin did just that, before standing next to each other, facing him, hoping for some sort of explanation for what was happening on Middle Earth. "For many years now, you have been seeking that which may explain the death of our world. It was not us. Ira," she perked up at being addressed directly, "you were right in your assumptions. We have been infiltrated, and our powers are being drained as we speak."_

_"How can we stop it?" Alduin queried, the urgency in his voice somewhat surprising the Dragonborn, for he always had a calm head on his shoulders. It was clearly _very_bad._

_"You must destroy Morgoth's puppet."_

_"No easy feat," Ira stated dryly, "but we are already setting out to do that."_

_Akatosh shook his 'head'._ "_It is not Sauron I speak of," he said. "I speak of Fankil, the first leader of Morgoth's armies. It is he who poses a threat to us. Neither Sauron nor Morgoth know of us, but Fankil saw noticed your arrival in Middle Earth almost eighty years ago, and has been working against us ever since. How he learned of us, and our world, is not entirely clear, but with every second he grows in strength. With our power he is creating new breeds of orcs and goblins that possess the attributes of Morgoth's balrogs. Their numbers are growing exponentially."_

_"Where does he hide them?" Alduin asked. "Keeping an army out of sight is somewhat difficult."_

_"He hides them within the Iron Mountains."_

_"Dain's land?" Ira asked, confused. "How could he not know they're there? They're practically on his doorstep!"_

_Alduin rolled him eyes. "I doubt every mountain is inhabited by dwarves. Remember, there are only so many dwarves in the world, and most of them live in Erebor now."_

_"Still..."_

_"Alduin is right," Akatosh said, and a gasp of outrage echoed from every warrior's mouth. It was Ira's turn to roll her eyes, while Alduin showed no outward reaction. "But how they have no noticed so far is not important. What matters now is that they _must_noticed from here. Destroy Fankil, and we can regain our powers, and, in turns, you will have yours back, as well."_

_"How should we accomplish this?" Ira questioned. "Paarthurnax and Odahviing are unlikely to get involved with the events of this world, even if it is to help more than just Middle Earth. Two people cannot take on a whole army."_

_"We are not so weak yet that your case is hopeless," Akatosh informed her. "When the time is right, we should be able to combine what is left of our powers to allow you both one short transformation. You can then take our Fankil and his army."_

_"And if you cannot do that? If we take too long to get there, and your powers are too few to change us?" Alduin questioned sharply._

_"Then you must do what you can. Two people, no matter how extraordinary, cannot defeat an army, it is true. But they can defeat just one man. Make sure it is Fankil." Akatosh' light then faded away, and Ira and Alduin shared one last look before darkness engulfed their dream world._

Ira woke up with a jerk, breathing slightly erratic. Beside her, Alduin did the same. "You know," she said tiredly, "after all this, I think I'm gonna finally give up adventures and saving the world. It's not good for my health."

* * *

**Before you ask, yes, Fankil is real. I did my research.**

**Until next time!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I only own the ones that you don't recognise.**

**A/N: Hi! So it turns out my holiday off was not as fruitful as I'd hoped. Although it was not from being the usual type of busy, but rather from actually going out and socialising. I don't do that often. Anyway, here's the chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.**

**Big thanks to: Betimusmax, rubenruben44, Draeloc, thehearne97 and Diamond of the Sea for following/favouriting.**

**Review response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Well, hopefully. As for the pirate hat, I DEFINITELY accept. Totally awesome.**

**jsun25: I swear that image had me laughing for a full three minutes. My brother had to check I was okay.**

**Rhettbutler: They will separate, but not 'til Lothlórien.**

**Ny'Kle: Nor did I. Don't even remember how I came across him, but I thought it added some more depth to the story. Not to mention the fact it slightly threw a spanner in the works (IT WAS SUPPOSED TO, I PROMISE!)**

**rgss: I might do. Haven't decided yet.**

**gabiey: Here y'are!**

**Diamond of the Sea: But addictive, it seems...**

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

Before they knew it, November had come and gone, and the brutality of the dead of winter was fast approaching. It was during the last days of December that the Fellowship departed. Ira stood between Alduin and Eleniel as Elrond said his (perhaps) last goodbye to them.

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save the members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli gruffly, and Ira felt her lips twitching upward at the sides. Though she commended his heart, he knew little of the trials and tests they would soon face. He may yet go back on his own words.

Elrond smiled wanly at him, before saying, "Go now with good hearts. Farewell, and may the blessings of the elves and men and all free folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Ira, Aragorn, Eleniel and Legolas all bowed in the traditional elvish manner, and Ira spoke for all of them when she said, "_Na lû e-govaned vîn. (Until next we meet.)"_

With no further words, the Company turned as one and departed on their long journey.

...

For many days they wandered, their speed neither fast nor slow, and moved further South along the borders of the Misty Mountains. This path was chosen in the hope to avoid unfriendly eyes, as Saruman's spies had seldom been seen in this part of the land, and the paths were known by few. With them came Bill (Sam's pony) and Shadowmere, who both refused to be left behind. Indeed, they had left Rivendell with Bill alone, but within just a few hours Shadowmere had caught up, wearing an expression Ira had long ago learned to mean he would not be persuaded to leave.

The first part of their journey was bleary and grim, not to mention cold. The biting wind did not help, either. Most of the Company felt no warmth for many days, and even Ira and Ghardaz, who had been born and raised in such conditions, began to feel the discomfort of extreme cold. The land in this area was much the same for many miles, and on more than one occasion would one of the hobbits question whether they actually made any progress, to which Eleniel cheerfully replied that they should keep an eye on the size of the mountains, and the steepness of their path, because each proved that they were getting ever nearer to the mountains.

It was only after two weeks that the weather took a turn for the better, and out of the swift-flowing clouds came the sun, pale and bright. With it, the air grew warmer, and the sky and mood of the Fellowship greatly brightened. So much so, in fact, that songs would often be sung to pass the time (mainly by Eleniel and Gimli, who had grown up with dwarven customs, and dwarves loved little more than a good song).

Most members of the group had tasked themselves (or been tasked by others) with teaching the halflings at least the basics of how to fight. Ira had supplied each with a long, elven dagger that she had crafted in their last few days in Rivendell. Each was light and sharp, and while they were short for the hands of men and elves, they were good lengths for the hobbits. Frodo seemed hesitant to learn, as his heart was undoubtedly a pure one, but Eleniel quickly convinced him that some things, no matter how much the heart fought otherwise, did not deserve the life they were given, for they in return only brought death and suffering to those who _did_ deserve their lives.

Ira was teaching Pippin at the current time, and he had progressed surprisingly well - certainly, far quicker than the others - and had proved himself to be incredibly light on his feet. Even so, his footwork remained rather sloppy, and would be the frequent reason for his failures. The two had just settled down for a rest, when Gimli's deep voice met their ears, and they turned their heads to listen in on the dwarf's conversation with Gandalf.

"If anyone were to ask my opinion," he said lowly, "which, I note, they're not, I would say we are taking the long way 'round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome."

While Ira's spirits lifted at the possibility of seeing her friend again, she could not miss the shiver that went down her spine at the mention of that place. It seemed unlikely that Balin would still be there, after thirty years of silence from him, but even if he were still alive, there was a high possibility that orcs still dwelled somewhere in those deep halls, just waiting to ambush unwary prey. She never did forget the tale Balin told her and Thorin's company of the battle that was fought before those very mines. There was also the unbeaten terror that the dwarves uncovered in ages past.

"No, Gimli," Gandalf said seriously, a haunted look in his eyes, "I would not take the paths through Moria unless I had no other choice."

"What... is that?" Ira asked, slowly standing up, staring at a fluttering of black that was slowly coming their way.

"Nothing," Gimli said, without really _looking_ at what she saw, "it's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir disagreed almost immediately. "It's moving fast... against the wind."

Legolas suddenly shouted out, "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!"

Instantly the Fellowship where a blur of action. Ira grabbed Pippin and Eleniel by the shoulders and pulled them with her underneath a rock. She held them tightly as the birds suddenly flew, squawking widely, around their hiding place. While Eleniel was calm, Ira could feel Pippin's small heart hammering against his chest, as well as hear his slightly uneven breaths. She squeezed him gently to offer him support, and he shot her a grateful look in return.

They climbed out from their hiding place only when the crebain were beyond sight, all grim-faced and anxious. Ira immediately joined Aragorn and Gandalf, who paused in their conversation upon her arrival. "Which path are we taking?" She asked, glancing uneasily around her. "If we continue South, we will not find a way to cross the mountains until we reach the Gap of Rohan, which I fear will take us too close to Isengard. We will be seen without a doubt."

"Not to mention we don't know which side now the marshals of the Horse-Lords serve."

"The Rohirrim are no lovers of Sauron," Ira told him gravely, "but, in desperation, they may indeed choose to go that way. I am liking that path even less."

"But what then?" Gandalf queried. "You both know as well as I what we may encounter in Moria."

"We could take the mountain path," Aragorn suggested. "The Pass of Caradhras. It will be dangerous, but we should meet no opposition except perhaps from the mountain itself."

"And what of the hobbits?" Ira asked, glancing at said people, who were already watching them. In fact, upon looking around, she saw that everyone was waiting for their decision. "They are not suited for the harsh cold of high places, even less so than men. They may well freeze to death before we even reach the peak, let alone the other side."

"I think," Gandalf said quietly, "we have no other choice." When Ira went to argue again, he said, "Ask yourself which is the path with the least risks. The Gap of Rohan, which may lead us directly into the hands of Saruman, the Mines of Moria, of which there has been little news for decades, and within dwells a creature more fearsome than all but perhaps a dragon itself, or Caradhras, on which we may be hindered by heavy snow and cold, but where there are few other perils save our altitude."

Sighing heavily, Ira consented. "Very well, we must take the mountain path. But there is a warning in my heart that tells me our venture will not be fruitful."

"We will never know unless we try," Aragorn reminded her softly. Ira nodded in agreement.

Gandalf turned away and addressed the others. "We will take the Pass of Caradhras," he told them, and with that, the group set off again, hearts heavy with the knowledge that their luck may have ended.

...

Ira's memories of the mountains were not good ones, but she would admit she preferred the biting chill she was currently experiencing to a heavy downpour of both rain and rocks. They were close to the summit of Caradhras now, and though Ira's concerns about the hobbits were coming into fruition, their progress was still relatively steady, and Ira, Eleniel, Legolas, Ghardaz and Alduin could afford to give up a few thick cloaks to the shivering hobbits, for they were more immune to the cold than the rest. Ira was currently in just her boots, breeches and a relatively thin tunic and outer corset-vest, having given both coat and cloak to Sam, and was wrapped in Alduin's arms. He too was without his coat, and so they were using each other for additional warmth. It could not be denied that the man was incredibly warm (probably something to do with the dragon trapped within his body). Her head was bowed to keep most of the wind off her face, and her hair loose to provide that little bit of extra warmth around her neck and shoulders.

The group slept little that night, and whatever sleep they did get was fitful and restless. While Ira and Alduin were on watch together - you could never be _too_ careful - they quietly discussed their plan of what to do about Fankil. At the present time, it seemed that the Fellowship's path would take them to Lothlórien, and then South down the River Anduin for a time, before turning East. The two agreed that they would part with the Fellowship at Lothlórien, head North to the Carrock, where they would hopefully be able to pick up supplies and rest with Beorn for a day or so, then take the elven path through Mirkwood. From there, their journey would take them to Erebor, where they would once again rest and resupply, before they continued the last part of their journey to the East, taking them to the Iron Hills.

"It'll be like déjà vu," Ira said monotonously. "We'll be taking the exact same path the company did all those years ago."

"We will," Alduin agreed, gently wrapping an arm around her body and pulling her against him, where she rested her head against his shoulders. "Only this time, there won't be a dragon at the end of our journey."

"No," Ira muttered, a smile creeping onto her lips, "just a crazed maia and an army of mutant orcs. My kind of ending."

Alduin chuckled quietly. "What happened to adventures not being good for your health?"

Ira shrugged against him. "It got boring. Turns out I just can't live without them."

* * *

**Here you go. The first part of Moria should be next chapter. Fun... (Note the sarcasm)**

**Anyways, I hope you liked it, and, as always, until next time...!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. No others.**

**A/N: Okay, I think I'm gonna start posting on weekends now, so they will be a little less sporadic from here on out. **

**Big thanks to: MisterTompson, Reichenfaust, BlazeBlaster1999 and CrsiperKarma0 for following/favouriting. Thanks, guys, it means a lot.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Rhettbutler: I was wrong about when Moria is going to appear - it'll be next chapter. This is mostly just a filler. Sorry :/ Just be patient and it'll come.**

**gabiey: Thanks. Your copnsatnt support is really pleasing to see. :D**

* * *

**Chapter 12:**

A strong blizzard had attacked them, and seemed hell-bent on forcing them to turn back. Like the case had been so many years prior to this day, Alduin and Ira's Shouts, even when combined, could not tame this storm. The taller of their group had therefore been forced to take on extra weight, as the snow was now far too deep for the hobbits and even Gimli to fight their way through. Ira was carry Pippin, Alduin carried Sam, Boromir had Merry, Ghardaz had Gimli, and Aragorn carried Frodo. Gandalf was at the front, carving a path through for the others, while Legolas and Eleniel, with their light-footedness and perfect footfalls, walked atop the snow.

Pity built in Ira's chest when she felt the constant shivers of the poor halfling clinging to her shoulders, and she paused for a moment, placed him gently on the ground with a promise to carry him again in just a moment, and pulled off her coat. A few others had noticed she had stopped and so waited for her, but she just waved them off. She picked Pippin up again, before telling him to hold on tight while she put on her coat again. He did so, and was quickly sandwiched between the thick fur of her coat, and the warmth of her body. His shivers slowed down considerably after that, and the others, seeing how much this helped him, quickly copied.

From up front, Legolas' voice suddenly reached back. "There is a fell voice in the air!"

Ira listened hard, and the echo of a deep voice hit her sensitive ears. It was speaking in a language not so different from elvish, and yet Ira could not understand it.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf roared, just as snow and rocks began to crumble from the mountain above their heads. Ira swore loudly and pushed herself and her charge against the cliff behind her, feeling as a few pieces of snow collided with her arms.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain," Aragorn called desperately from behind them. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"And go where?!" Ira hollered in return, squinting against the harsh wind and snow.

"No!" Gandalf called, before wrestling his way to the edge of their platform. He began chanting in the same tongue as the voice they heard echoing in the wind. Whilst she knew he was attempting to counter whatever spell had forced the mountain against them, Ira doubted the wizard's attempts would be fruitful, for the mountain seemed only too happy to comply to battling their group.

A bolt of lightning suddenly lit up the sky and forcefully struck the top of Caradhras, sending a second avalanche onto the Fellowship, this one far larger. Ira pressed even harder against the cliff, but it was in vain, and she and Pippin, along with the rest of the Fellowship, were buried in deep snow. She could feel Pippin's breathing spike in his panic, and he clutched her tighter even as she dug them out of the snow. They emerged after a few seconds, and Ira noticed they were the last to emerge.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir yelled from the back. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," Aragorn shouted back, echoing Ira's earlier words.

Gimli spoke then. "If we cannot go over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us take the Mines of Moria."

Ira's eyes widened, and she frantically met Aragorn's gaze, finding his own face mirrored her fears exactly. She found Alduin just a few feet from her, and dug her way towards him, before taking his hand within the snow. His skin was warm against hers, and he squeezed her hand gently, offering unspoken comfort. It was more effective than any spoken words would have been. Ira kept hold of him as she looked towards Gandalf, desperation in her eyes.

"Let the Ring-bearer decide," the grey wizard said at last, voice carrying dread.

Frodo glanced around at each of them, eyes lingering longest on his kin. She saw the decision settle in his mind even before he spoke the words. "We will go through the mines."

Resignation settled on Gandalf's elderly face, and he muttered, "So be it."

...

They settled near the base of Caradhras that night, the decent being far easier than the climb up had been. Around the halfway mark, the hobbits had begun walking on their own again, and Gimli had done so barely a hundred metres from their turning point. In that short distance, the snow had become far shallower, and they were merely following the path they had already carved, allowing him to traipse through on his own two feet again.

Pippin was sat closely beside Ira, and she had wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him against her in order to keep him warm. She had developed a strong urge to protect the hobbits (Pippin especially), and so felt the need to make them as comfortable as she could. While the physical contact occasionally made her uncomfortable, she reminded herself constantly that they needed it. "Why does the mere mention of Moria seem to make everyone so nervous?" Pippin asked, and while he had directed the question to Ira, his small voice carried in the empty silence of the night, and the whole group heard.

A deep, somewhat bitter voice responded his innocent question. "There are dark legends surrounding those halls," Alduin stated. "Not just that orcs may still remain there after the Battle of Azanulbizar many years past, but of a creature that they uncovered in the dark."

"A servant of Morgoth, one they say that no simple blade could harm," Ira responded in a haunted voice. "I dread to think of what may have become of Balin and the other dwarves while in the very same halls as such a beast."

"I visited the mines seventeen years ago," Aragorn said darkly, "but I never set foot inside them, for the door was shut to me, and only a password I did not know could open the doors."

Ira sighed heavily. "Why do dwarf doors always have to be so complicated? I swear, I've had more trouble with those bloody things than with all the orcs I've ever fought put together."

This comment, while truthful, seemed to lighten the mood somewhat, and a few of the company laughed at her small complaint. And that was the end of that conversation, but it did nothing to stop the dread growing in the pit of the Dragonborn's stomach. She knew that, at some point within those dark mines, the fortunes of their quest would change. In what way, she didn't know, but she was almost tempted to say they brave more dangerous roads to the South. But none would agree, for much must be risked in days of evil, and this quest could not afford to lose time to extra walking.

The wind was howling around them, and Ira pushed her hair out of her face with frustrated force on more than one occasion. Many others were having the same problem, but it did not seem to bother them as much as it did her.

Suddenly, Aragorn leapt to his feet, startling Ira quite badly. "How the wind howls!" He cried, mirroring her own thoughts. Then, realisation struck her like a whip. _Damn._ "It is howling with wolf-voices. The wargs have come West of the mountains!"

"Oh, not those bloody things again," Eleniel groaned, causing Ira to quirk an amused eyebrow in her direction. The girl shot her a dark look that quite clearly promised repercussions if Ira mentioned her language (though mild) to either of her parents. In response, Ira just grinned evilly.

"How far is Moria?" Asked Boromir.

"There was a door South-West of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies, and maybe twenty as the wolf runs," answered Gandalf grimly.

"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can," said the son of Gondor. "The wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears."

"True!" Said Aragorn, loosening his sword from his sheath. "But where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls."

For their defence in the night the company climbed to the top of the small hill under which they had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a broken circle of boulder stones. In the midst of this they lit a fire, for there was no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovery by the hunting packs.

Round the fire they sat, and those that were not on guard dozed uneasily. Poor Bill the pony trembled and sweated where he stood, although Shadowmere was a comforting companion for him. The horse feared very little, and certainly not orcs or wargs, for he had faced many with his mistress in the past. The howling of the wolves was now all round them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off. In the dead of the night many shining eyes were seen peering over the brow of the hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. At a gap in the circle a great dark wolf-shape could be seen halted, gazing at them. A shuddering howl broke from him, as if he were a captain summoning his pack to the assault.

Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. "Listen, Hound of Sauron!" He cried. "Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."

The wolf snarled and sprang towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp twang. Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the elvish arrow had pierced its throat. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn strode forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.

The night was old, and westward the waning moon was setting, gleaming fitfully through the breaking clouds. Suddenly Frodo started from sleep. Without warning a storm of howls broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. A great host of wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking them from every side at once.

"Fling fuel on the fire!" Cried Gandalf to the hobbits. "Draw your blades, and stand back to back!"

In the leaping light, as the fresh wood blazed up, Frodo saw many grey shapes spring over the ring of stones. More and more followed. Through the throat of one huge leader Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust; with a great sweep Boromir hewed the head off another. Beside them Gimli stood with his stout legs apart, wielding his dwarf-axe. The bows of Legolas and Eleniel was singing. Ghardaz, Alduin and Ira stood in a tightly-knit circle, slashing at the wargs with their swords and axes, sending blood soaring through the air with each new stroke.

In the wavering firelight Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone set upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. They gave back before him. High in the air he tossed the blazing brand. It flared with a sudden white radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.

"_Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!_" He cried.

There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from treetop to treetop. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. The swords and knives and axes of the defenders shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew and plunged, burning, into the heart of a great wolf chieftain. All the others fled.

Slowly the fire died until nothing was left but falling ash and sparks. A bitter smoke curled above the burnt tree stumps, and blew darkly from the hill, as the first light of dawn came dimly in the sky. Their enemies were routed and did not return.

"It seems," Alduin said dryly, recalling his time with the company in the Misty Mountains many, many of miles North of where they currently stood, "that the best way to defeat a pack of wargs is with fire."

Ira sent him a confused look, having not been on that high cliff with him and the others, so not knowing of what he spoke. She had been told the story of those moments, but only briefly. She didn't know, for example, that Gandalf was the one to start the rain of fire.

...

When the full light of the morning came no signs of the wolves were to be found, and they looked in vain for the bodies of the dead. No trace of the fight remained but the charred trees, the occasional speck of warg blood, and the arrows of the Fellowship's archers lying on the hilltop. All were undamaged save one, of which only the point was left.

"It is as I feared," said Gandalf. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go. We have no time to tarry; we must make haste towards Moria."

* * *

**Okay, so I lied last chapter. I guess Moria's gonna come after this. Sorry. This just turned out longer than I expected it to.**

**Anyway, my lovelies, na lû e-govaned vîn.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own the usual. Everyone else belongs to Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: I was going to update yesterday, but then things happened, and I couldn't. Still, I got it updated. Hopefully the extra day didn't kill you, or something...**

**Big thanks to: Legorobo4, Mf0012, anon940 and hetjagrr for favouriting/following.**

**Review response(s):**

**kalani. gapido: The interactions will become more numerous in Moria. I plan on writing out all four days inside, instead of skipping through them like the films do. Thing is, I'm trying to get more details in, so sometimes interactions between characters are missed.**

**Rhettbutler: Thanks for that. It made me smile a lot. And I'll still write the different parts of the story; I'll switch between the groups, just so you don't only experience the laborious journey North for Alduin and ira. it'll be mostly unexciting in comparison ;)**

**Ny'Kle: Naww, thanks.**

**jsun25: Dawnguard does that to you. Which side did you choose, if I may ask? And certainly, Moria will bring up a few old memories for the Dragonborn.**

**gabiey: Bless you, you're amazing x**

**rgss: Hmm... That's actually a _really_ cool idea. Do you mind if I use it? And I think it's Alons-y (with or without the -). As for the language... No I don't know what it is, either. Maybe Valarin?**

**Mac Gustah: That was an odd review, but I liked it. Cheers, mate! (You-know-who will appear within the next chapter, methinks).**

* * *

**Chapter 13:**

After the events with the wargs, each of the Fellowship was a little more wary of their surroundings, and their pace had increased as they hurried to reach Moria before another foe could attack them. Thankfully, they met no more danger that day, and they were before the great walls of Moria by the time night fell.

A feeling of apprehension rose in Ira's chest as she stared at the solid, vertical wall before her, which stretched around a black lake. She didn't trust this place. Whether it was the mines themselves, or the suspicious stillness of the air around them, she didn't know. Either way, she knew she had to be prepared for anything.

Instinctively, Ira stepped a little closer to Eleniel. The girl had become much like a daughter or niece to her, and she was too young to be left alone on such a dangerous quest. Eleniel would argue, of course, but even she could not deny that her experience of the outside world was little. To her surprise, Alduin seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he hovered protectively behind the two girls as the Fellowship began to make their way around the lake.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli stated proudly. Ira shot him a look of irritation. Most already knew that; they didn't needed to be reminded just how difficult finding the door could be.

"Yes, Gimli," Gandalf said, voice annoyingly light. "Their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas muttered. Ira shot him a warning glare. Since the attack on them the previous night, she had been constantly on edge and grew annoyed and angry at the smallest of things. It was moments like these that Elrond worried about her. Thankfully, though, he wasn't here to 'keep an eye on her'.

A sudden splash caught Ira's attention, and she turned her head just in time to see Frodo hurriedly pulling his foot out of the black lake. There was an odd glint in his eyes as he glanced back at the lake. He almost looked as if he feared something would jump out and grab him.

Up ahead, Gandalf stopped between two, mangled, twisted trees. He smiled. "Well, let's see." For a moment, the wizard pondered, before he deduced, "Ithildin."

"Star letters," Eleniel realised, smiling. "They mirror starlight and moonlight, yes?"

Gandalf's proud gaze reached hers, and he nodded. Everyone in turn moved to face the moon, which revealed its shining, white face. Instantly, a series of shapes and patterns appeared on the great wall, above all of which were some words, written in Fëanorian. "It reads," Gandalf said, lifting his staff to follow the letters as he moved through them, "'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter'."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

Gandalf brushed it off. "Oh, it's quite simple, really. If you are a friend you speak the password and the doors will open." Rolling her eyes at his 'it's quite simple' comment, Ira turned away from the rest of the group and moved closer to the water, for she got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach at the mere sight of it. After a few moments, she heard Gandalf sigh. "This may take some time. While I am searching, each of you make ready to enter the mines. For here I fear we may say farewell to our good beasts of burden. You may lay aside much of the stuff that we brought against bitter weather: you will not need it inside, nor, I hope, when we come through and journey on down into the South. Instead, each of us must take a share of what our steeds have carried, especially the food and water-skins."

"But you can't leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken place, Mr Gandalf!" Cried Sam, angry and distressed. "I won't have it, and that's flat. After he's come so far and all."

"I am sorry, Sam," said the wizard. "But when the door opens I do not think you will be able to drag your Bill inside, into the long dark of Moria. You will have to choose between Bill and your master."

"He'd follow Mr Frodo into a dragon's den, if I led him," protested Sam. "It'd be nothing short of murder to turn him loose with all these wolves about."

"He's right, Sam," Aragorn told the quivering hobbit softly. "The mines are no place for a pony."

Sighing, Ira placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder, causing him to look pleadingly up at her. "Shadowmere will not be able to go through Moria either," she reminded him. "He is fiercely loyal to any he deems fit, and he and Bill have become close friends. I'm sure he could escort Bill back to Rivendell."

"Will they be safe?"

Ira threw her head back and let out a loud bark of laughter. "Ha!" She knelt in front of him and smiled, before quietly telling him something she hoped Alduin wouldn't hear. "I've seen that beast take down a dragon all by himself. Bill couldn't be in safer hands, I promise you, mal gein." She stood up again. "Now, come on, we'll sort them out together."

Shakily, Sam nodded, and Ira led him towards the horses. Shadowmere had a knowing glint to his fiery eyes, and Ira smiled at him. She began to pick off his packs, placing them on the floor to be distributed to the rest of the Fellowship in a moment. Sam hesitantly pulled off Bill's bridle and packs. "Bye-bye, Bill," he whispered, placing a small kiss on the pony's snout. Bill snorted and nuzzled against his master, before turning around.

Ira faced Shadowmere and whispered, "Take him back to Imladris, then meet us at Beorn's house. Be as swift as you can."

Shadowmere bobbed his head up and down as a nod, before quickly catching up with Bill. A soft nudge prompted the pony into a canter, and then the two disappeared from view. "Don't worry, Sam," Ira said as Sam watched after his steed fondly, "they'll look after him well. And when this is all over, you can go back to get him."

He said nothing, merely nodded and picked up a few bags for the others. As they distributed the bags, a loud splash once again caught Ira's ears. This time, it was followed by the most minute rumble beneath her feet, but with senses more acute than most, she picked it up. In a flash she was next to the two hobbits who were throwing stones into the lake in their boredom and pulling them away from the lake.

"Hey!" Pippin complained, but then fell silent when he saw the haunted, fearful look in her eyes as she looked out across the vast expanse of water.

"Stay away from the water," she warned them.

"What is it?" Eleniel asked, having seen everything.

Ira slowly met her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "But there is something living in that lake."

"How can you possibly know that?" Eleniel queried, eyes wide.

"I felt it."

"You _felt_ it?"

"If it helps," Alduin stated dryly from several metres away, "I felt it as well. It is large, and so we must be extra careful. And further disturbance of its home may bring it to us."

"If that's the case, I wish we could get away!" Said Merry.

"Why doesn't Gandalf do something?" Pippin asked.

Gandalf took no notice of them. He sat with his head in his hands, either in despair or anxious thought. The mournful howling of wolves suddenly assaulted the air, and the Fellowship all gathered together near the entrance to the mines, waiting for Gandalf to have a sudden, inspirational idea. Ripples sprung from the water, growing bigger, reaching all the way to the edge of the shore. "Come on, Mithrandir," Ira whispered, willing the wizard to hurry up.

As if responding to her prayers, Gandalf sprung to his feet, startling them all. He was laughing! "I have it!" He cried. "Of course, of _course!_ Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer." Picking up his staff, he stood before the rock and said in a clear voice: "_Mellon_."

The door shone out briefly and faded again. Then silently a great doorway was outlined, though not a crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall. Through the opening a shadowy stair could be seen climbing steeply up; but beyond the lower steps the darkness was deeper than the night. The Fellowship stared in wonder.

"What word did you speak to open the doors?" Ghardaz questioned.

"Mellon means friend in my mother's tongue," Eleniel explained quietly. "The answer was right in front of our eyes."

"Indeed it was," Gandalf said, seemingly proud of himself, though a sense of foreboding hovered over them all. "'Speak, friend, and enter'. It was _telling_ us the answer."

"I was once told that the best place to hide something is right before your eyes," Ghardaz grumbled. "I had no idea the dwemer took that saying to heart."

"Perhaps it was them who started it in the first place," Ira suggested, eyes flickering back and forth between the darkness within the mines, and the lake.

"We can argue reasonings inside; for now, let us go," Gandalf said. He strode forward and set his foot on the lowest step. But at that moment many unwelcome things happened. Frodo felt something seize him by the ankle, and he fell with a cry. Sam cried out as well, calling for Aragorn to act. Tentacles were stretching out from within the lake, each pale-green and luminous. One tentacle had an end wrapped around Frodo's foot, and was dragging him towards the water. Sam fell to his knees and slashed at it frantically with his knife.

Eleniel darted forward as soon as the tentacle let Frodo go, pulling him onto his feet and dragging both him and Sam towards the mine entrance. They were just in time. Sam, Frodo and Eleniel were only a few steps up, and the others had just begun to climb, when the groping tentacles writhed across the narrow shore and fingered the cliff-wall and the doors. Gandalf turned and paused. If he was considering what word would close the gate again from within, there was no need. Many coiling arms seized the doors on either side, and the horrible strength, swung them round. With a shattering echo they slammed, and all light was lost. A noise of rending and crashing came dully through the ponderous stone.

Sam, clinging to Eleniel's arm, collapsed on a step in the black darkness. Ira could just about make out Eleniel's form as she crouched beside him and offered him a warming hug. She then saw the faintest bit of movement to her left, and Gandalf moved back down the steps and thrust his staff against the doors. There was a quiver in the stone and the stairs trembled, but the doors did not open.

"Well, well," said the wizard, hitting the stone floor with his staff and causing a white light to emit from the top. "The passage is blocked behind us now, and there is only one way out - on the other side of the mountains. I fear from the sounds that boulders have been piled up, and the trees uprooted and thrown across the gate. I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, even in age, and had stood so long."

"I felt something horrible was near from the moment my foot first touched the water," said Frodo. "What was that thing, or were there many of them?"

"I do not know," answered Gandalf; "but the arms were all guided by one purpose. Something has crept, or has been driven out of dark waters under the mountains. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." He did not speak aloud his thought that whatever it was that dwelt in the lake, it had seized on Frodo first among all the group.

"The path back is blocked," Ghardaz said gravely, "and so we have no choice but to go forward. My people grew up in and near mountains, and yet this places brings me no joy or comfort; on the contrary, I only feel uneasy. How far is it to the other side?"

"It is a four day journey, without delays or complications. But I doubt we will make it without encountering one or the other. I alone have ventured inside these halls, and it was a long time ago. My memories of these halls are... few," Gandalf told them. He sighed. "Let us hope our presence here may go unnoticed."

* * *

**Aaaand that's it!**

**More Moria next chapter, and a surprise (hopefully).**

**Until then, my lovelies!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. The rest... Nah.**

**A/N: Okay, here's some more Moria. This is the point where things begin to go a bit more off-canon, I think. Anyways...**

**Big thanks to: littleweejock and Ny'Kle for favouriting/following.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: Ummm... Yeah. XD**

**Mac Gustah: Nah, mate, that be mine now. *life goal achieved***

**jsun25: You make a good point, my friend.**

**gabiey: Thanks x**

**knolden: Patience, my good man (or woman)**

**rgss: We'll see**

**Rhettbutler: Cheers, mate. Glad to know I still have your support :)**

* * *

**Chapter 14:**

The stairway was sound and undamaged, though the occasional rock or stone lay atop it. Two hundred steps were counted, broad and shallow; and at the top they found an arched passage with a level floor leading on into the dark.

"Let us sit and rest and have something to eat, here on the landing, since we can't find a dining room," said Frodo. He had begun to shake off the terror of the clutching tentacle, and suddenly he felt extremely hungry.

The proposal was welcomed by most, and they sat down on the upper steps, dim figures in the gloom. While they ate, Alduin and Ira stood alone in the blackness, just out of the view of the rest of their group, talking quietly to one another. "There is a heaviness to this place. It feels even less welcoming than Erebor did when we first set foot inside," Ira whispered, sharp eyes scanning around. Despite the fact she could see nothing to hint at any threat, her discomfort did not abate.

"What do you fear?" Alduin asked her, equally keen eyes picking up on her uneasiness.

"There is a servant of Morgoth dwelling within these halls, or so it is rumoured. A balrog."

Alduin's eyes widened momentarily, before a scowl flickered onto his face. "No doubt discovered when the dwarves dug too deep."

"Would you not have done in their position?" Ira raised an eyebrow. "Many secrets can be held within the earth."

Alduin allowed this. "Even so, I will never forgive them if you die because of something _they_ uncovered."

"You would blame an entire race for the mistake of a few?"

"If it cost me my wife, then yes."

A thrill ran down Ira's spine at the word 'wife'. He used it so rarely that she had learned to treasure each time he did. "You worry too much," she assured him gently, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "If time cannot kill me, I doubt anything else could."

"Something will kill you eventually," Alduin reminded her. "Even immortals cannot live forever."

Ira sighed. "You're such a pessimist."

"I'm a dragon; it's in my nature."

Ira chuckled. "Touché."

They re-joined the group when they started to stand again, and the group continued in the dark. They wandered along bridges and ledges, and through corridors long ago abandoned. It wasn't until their fourth hour in the halls that things took a turn.

"What's that?" Eleniel asked, before stooping to pick up something from the ground. She hissed out a curse. "It's an orc arrow."

"It may be from the first battle," Gimli told her.

But Eleniel shook her head. "No. Orcs are foul-smelling creatures, and a faint scent lingers on this. It was used only recently. Within a few days."

"There are orcs here even now? Dammit," Ira cussed.

"But why fire it?" Alduin queried rhetorically. "There must be someone else here, too."

"Over here!" They all turned to see Aragorn crouched a little ways away, his eyes on a faint set of footprints within the dust. "These are fresh. Less than two days old."

"They are dwarven boots," Gimli said, excitement entering his voice now. "Some of my kin survived!"

"There has still been two days since these were laid down," Ghardaz reminded him. "Things can change within that time."

"Oh, don't ruin it for him, Ghardaz," Eleniel reprimanded him.

"In times like these, we must all be cautious and expect the worst," Ira warned as she looked around. "These prints may be a trap set down to draw us to our deaths."

"And if they aren't?" Eleniel challenged haughtily. "Do we leave this person to a slow and lonely death?"

"Is one life worth the same as thousands?" Alduin asked, taking Ira's side. "If it is a trap, and we all die, then the Enemy will get his hands on the Ring, Middle Earth will be engulfed in the flames of war, and the Eyra will be weakened to the point they would become practically nonexistent. I understand why you want to find out if it is an innocent life lost in the dark, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made."

Eleniel pursed her lips, but had no argument strong enough to counter his words.

"It may be that whoever it is notices us, and seeks us out instead of the other way round. That way, regardless of whether they are friend or for, we would be safer," Ira added. "Take heart, vanimelda." The old endearment seemed to lift Eleniel's spirits, and she drew herself up to her full height and nodded. Gimli hesitantly followed them as they continued to wander through the gloom.

...

With no way of proving how much time had passed, the Fellowship settled for eating when they were hungry, and sleeping when they could scarcely hold their eyes open. Whenever they rested between sleep, Ira was requested to tell them tales of Skyrim. She told them of her many ventures with each faction she had joined; she told them of the Thieves' Guild, and how she had become the Guild Master by discovering the betrayal of her predecessor, returning an important artifact to its home and therefore giving them their luck back, and then helping to create a name for themselves again. She told them of her time in the Dark Brotherhood (this made them uncomfortable, so she was quick to assure them she had left that particular group soon after joining it), where she met the famous Listener and helped him to bring the Dark Brotherhood back to glory. She was mistaken as the Listener on more than one occasion, because people automatically expected a world-famous hero to be the most important person in each faction. She was quick to quieten those rumours about herself. She also told them of her involvement of two wars in quick succession: the civil war against the Imperials, and the second Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion. With two dragons at her call, the elves were put down once and for all.

Ira also learnt more about Boromir and Gondor, and of his father, Denethor. These conversations happened mainly between the two of them, for many of the others were wary of him for reasons Ira understood; he was beginning to fall to the power of the Ring. Despite this, she knew she could not, in good conscience, allow him to be pushed out of the group.

Ira even had a couple escapades with Alduin, and the two would spend the time enjoying each other's company in more ways than one. Sometimes they would simply wander in silence, others they would discuss menial things, others important things, and other times their attention would be too focused elsewhere for petty conversation.

Towards the end of what was assumed to be their third day, their surroundings changed. They'd spent a laborious day inching across a narrow ledge, which wound for miles, and eventually came across a grand hall. Gandalf brightened the light on the end of his staff, and great, towering columns stood over them, as well as a seemingly endless, empty room.

Instantly, everyone found themselves speechless as they stared in awe at the magnificence of the room. Everyone except Ira, who had caught sight of more footprints. She moved away from the rest, drawing eyes to her, and knelt down by one of the prints. "These are probably less than an hour old," she informed them. "Whoever else wanders here is close."

As a precaution, each of the Fellowship drew their weapons, though they were slack in hand. For several minutes they walked through the hall, until, at the halfway mark, they saw a speck of light to their right. A doorway revealed a room bathed in moonlight. Letting out a cry, Gimli surged towards the room, ignoring Gandalf's calls. Shaking her head, Ira followed, leading the others after their dwarf companion. They slowed upon entering the room, finding it littered with skeletons and long-dried blood. A white, marble tomb lay in the centre of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust.

Gimli knelt down before it and let out a wail of despair at the sight before and around him. Gandalf approached the tomb slowly and read the inscription on the top. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." An aching pain tugged at Ira's heart, and a sorrowful expression pulled at her face. "He is dead then. It is as I feared." The wizard knelt before a skeleton, carefully prying a thick book from within its boney fingers. As he straightened again, his shadow shifted over the body, and Ira caught sight of something gold flashing in the movement of the light. She rather rudely nudged Gandalf away, before kneeling in front of the skeleton and pulling the gold object to her. It was a dagger. More specifically, a dwarfish dagger from Skyrim. More specially still, the dagger she herself had given to Ori during the quest for Erebor.

Letting out an anguished, rage-filled yell, she threw the dagger forcefully against the wall, allowing her anger to take hold at the thought of pure, innocent Ori losing his life. The world around her shifted, and everything gained a faint red tint. She had, it seemed, reached her breaking point.

...

As soon as Ira threw the dagger, Alduin knew it had become too much for her. She stood stock still, hands clenched into fists at her side, eyes on the body before her. Aragorn moved to help her, but Alduin stopped him.

"Don't. It is too dangerous to approach her when she is like this."

"This has happened before?"

"Yes," he informed them. "Last time, she went on a rampage for a solid seven hours. Luckily the only things in her path were goblins. She almost single-handedly cleared out the tunnels North of here."

"We haven't that long to spare," Legolas said, though it was common knowledge. "Is there no other way around it?"

"I don't know," Alduin admitted. "There has only been one other time she came this far, and only one or two where she came even remotely close."

"What did you do then?"

"I fought her."

"Fought her?!" Eleniel squeaked in shock and fear, for she knew well that Alduin was a fierce fighter. But Ira was too, and the two of them were evenly matched, so there was little to no danger of serious injury.

Alduin hummed as he placed his pack on the ground and slowly drew his blade, walking carefully and quietly towards Ira, who was now watching him with eyes that were as cold and sharp as ice, but swam with movement. Her inner dragon was practically on the surface. "Stay away from us," he warned the group, "and guard the door. It is likely one or both of us will have to use Shouts."

"Can you not avoid it?"

"It's safer than letting her anger continue to boil away, unchallenged." He faced his wife and slowly lifted a hand. "Tell me what you are thinking, lokaal."

Ira snarled. "I will cut down every single one of those slimy bastards until they pay for what they did." A draconic undertone could be heard in her voice, making her sound even more threatening. The hobbits all nervously shuffled as far away from her as possible.

"What did they do?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "They took away precious life for nothing. They are measly and weak and useless, and they claimed the lives of the innocent. They killed my friends. They will pay with their lives for this. I will paint the walls with their blood until not a single one remains alive to see it."

"Is that what they would want, hmm?" Alduin questioned, gesturing to the bodies with his head. "Would they want you to risk your life to avenge their deaths? Slaughtering their killers will not bring them back."

A growl ripped its way free of Ira's throat. "They do not deserve to live."

"No," Alduin agreed, "they do not. And they will pay for what they did. But you know it is dangerous to be as you are in a fight. Emotions cause mistakes, and mistakes can kill you."

Some of the fury in her eyes was starting to recede now, and Alduin knew this was his chance. He lunged. Ira's blade met his with a loud clang, and the two began an intricate and deadly dance, swinging and swiping, never aiming to maim or kill, simply to find a way to use their pent up frustration and anger. They darted all around the room, jumping over bodies and slabs of stone.

Just as they were about to charge forward again, they both felt a shift in the air and froze solid. For a split second they locked eyes, before whipping around and directing their swords in the direction of the intruder. "Show yourself," Ira demanded in a commanding voice that was powerful and filled the room with ease. Her eyes were calm now, anger cooled down to a controllable point, but Alduin was aware it still lingered, hiding just below the surface.

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**Ha! Cliff-hangar. Don't hate me for it.**

**Until next time, my lovelies**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I only own Eleniel, Ira and Ghardaz. Dwin belongs to my wonderful review-buddy, Mac Gustah.**

**A/N: SOOOORRRRRRRRRRYYYYY. Things just happened and then I wasn't writing and then I got busy again and we're still fixing our living room... Basically, it's chaos here. I've got a break, though, so hopefully I'll be able to catch up with my chapters this weekend. Sorry for the wait, though.**

**Big thanks to: HawkBlade0, Cerberus Mass Effect, jm8121, doesthiscountasausername, comet5000, Erkore, booman980, edgebones, Horizon Unsheathed, hogarfighter, BrotherDeath, ProfGubbinstein, johnljohnsibn, T-B-R and alevans360 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mf00012: It was more to do with a hate of the Thalmor than an agreement with Ulfric.**

**Mac Gustah: You have NO idea how much that made me laugh when I first read it. I think you have successfully regained your manliness. Congrats. And thanks for understanding!**

**jsun25: That was an interesting thought...**

**gabiey: Thanks! :)**

**Mimzi the Dragon: Gotta love 'em!**

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**Chapter 15:**

"What are you doing here?" The voice was gruff and deep - undoubtedly a dwarf voice - and yet it sounded weak, as well, as if the owner of said voice had not eaten or drunk or slept properly for a long time.

"We might ask you the same," Ira growled dangerously, narrowing her eyes when she began to see the outline of the dwarf's body. "Why come here?"

"I came with my kin many years ago," he replied.

"Who are you?" Ghardaz queried. "Show yourself!"

The dwarf stepped forward, revealing his tattered form. He wore armour that reminded Ira very strongly of the Stormcloak armour from her youth, with a brown, short-sleeved under-tunic, a green, leather chest plate, black breeches and a pair of heavy, green, furred boots. Two double-sided axes were strapped to his back, though they looked battered and dull. The dwarf had black hair that was messy and dirty from a long time without being washed, and he had a mid-length beard of the same colour. Both were decorated with many braids and beads. Ira also spied several knives and daggers hidden amongst and within his dwarfish armour. His stormy eyes had a dull fire to them.

"I was ordered to travel North to report of our success," the dwarf told them. "I never made it, for I was captured by orcs and dragged back here. They've been keeping me alive and trapped here, though I can't see why. The Eastern entrance is heavily guarded, and I know better than to attempt an escape on the Western side."

For some reason, Ira believed his story. What else could there be? Not even a dwarf would willingly wander in these halls unless there was no other choice, and he would have died a long time ago without outside help. What worried her was what purpose the orcs had for saving him, though.

"You've been here for thirty years?" Eleniel questioned doubtfully.

The stranger shrugged. "Give or take. I lost count after the first few months."

"What is your name?" Gandalf asked warily.

The dwarf replied with, "Dwin." There was no 'at your service' to accompany it, and the Dragonborn vaguely wondered if he had forgotten that particular custom of his people in his long imprisonment, or just thought they weren't deserving of his services. "Now," he said tiredly, as of this conversation was physically draining for him, "what are you all doing here?"

"We are heading East, and all other paths became blocked to us. This was our only option."

"And I'm guessing it was you who caused that racket three days ago...?"

"What racket?" Aragorn asked urgently, voicing the fear they all felt that they'd given away their presence right from the start.

"It was by the Western door. I heard it slam shut quite forcefully."

Many concerned looks were exchanged, but Ira and Alduin remained staring at the dwarf, suspicious and wary of his very presence.

Before more could be said, however, a loud crash echoed throughout the entire mine, and everyone whipped around to see poor Pippin standing sheepishly beside a well. They all watched in horror as a headless skeleton dropped into the dark pit, followed by a chain, and then finally finishing with a bucket. The clangs that came after reverberated through the whole room.

Gandalf glared at the hobbit. "Fool of a Took. Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

"Get out of here," Dwin said suddenly, eyes wide, and for a moment, Ira saw a hint of madness in his eyes, though it quickly disappeared. For just a moment, the dwarf looked staggeringly like Thorin had when he was beginning to fall to the gold sickness. "The orcs would have heard that, without a doubt."

"And what about you?" Eleniel queried. "Are you just going to stay here?"

"I've no choice."

"There's always a choice," the half-elf argued sternly. She turned to her godmother. "Ira..."

"I may not trust him," Ira said with a roll of her eyes, "but I'm not cruel." She turned to Dwin. "I think we can all agree that we'd rather you come with us - if only for a little while - than stay here where you'll meet a lonely and dark death." The Fellowship, as a whole, nodded, with the exception of her brooding husband.

Dwin looked at them in surprise, before his face turned serious. "The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm is not far from here. The Eastern exit is that way, but we'll have to be fast; no doubt we'll have a hoard of orcs on our tail before we even reach the other end of the hall."

Drums.

They all froze solid as the sound of pounding drums travelled up through the well with worrying clarity. Ira's pulse echoed the noises, and the familiar thrum of adrenaline filled her veins.

The booms were slow, and far away. For now. As the drums drew gradually closer, Boromir ran to the door to get a look out. A second or two later, a well-used arrow thudded against the wood of the door. Yanking on the door handle, Boromir, with Ghardaz's help, managed to get the door closed. As Eleniel ushered the hobbits together and ordered them to draw their weapons, Legolas and Aragorn started throwing dusty, old axes to the man and orc, who then used them to bar the door.

Boromir huffed, leaning against his work. "They have a cave troll."

"What?!" Eleniel cried, eyes wide. Alduin just groaned in annoyance.

Ira prepared herself by gripping the leather hilt of her short sword tighter, drawing the blood away from her knuckles. Aragorn, Eleniel and Legolas all drew arrows from their quivers, nocked them to the strings of their bows, and aimed at the door. Everyone else drew their own weapons (even Dwin, though Ira knew he wouldn't last long in a fight in his current state) as their enemies began to pound against the door. It wouldn't take long for them to break through.

Gimli had at some point climbed up on the white tomb, and now he let out a grunt. "Let them come," he growled. "There's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

"Just don't die," Alduin warned him monotonously, as if he were discussing the weather.

Legolas released an arrow when a hole appeared in the door, and the following squeal confirmed his hit.

Ira heard Eleniel's little yelp when the group was rained on by small shards of wood as the door was blasted open. A swarm of snarling orcs burst into the room, only to be met by flashing swords, swinging axes and soaring arrows. Ira quickly swung her sword at the first one that came for her, growling slightly when her blade cut into the creature's stomach, spraying black blood everywhere.

Ira ducked a clumsy swing that was sent her way and thrust her sword upward in retaliation, skewering the orc and killing it instantly. She then whipped her arm back, hearing with grim satisfaction the sound of an orc impaling itself on the end of her blade. She then withdrew her sword from the vile creature and ducked low, avoiding the sweep of yet another crude blade and slashing a deep wound through the chest of the orc that aimed for her, dispatching it with a scowl of disdain.

A roar suddenly sounded from the other side of the doorframe, and the troll blundered in, flailing its arms about aimlessly, knocking orcs out of its path as it went. Legolas immediately fired at the beast, but his arrows seemed to have no effect on it. If anything, they only succeeded in making it far angrier. With a cry, Aragorn suddenly darted forward, stooping to pick up a spear and plunging it into one of the many layers of fat over the ugly brute's stomach.

Ira used this distraction as a chance to kill more of the orcs, as many were too focused on the troll's destructive path to notice the smouldering dragoness behind them until they were moments from death. Moving from body to body, Ira dispatched as many as she could. A frantic cry of "Aragorn!" barely caught her attention. Barely, but it still did. Pausing, she let her eyes fall on the Frodo, who was backed into the corner. The troll plunged his spear into the hobbit's chest.

Ira let out a yell, and began fighting with more vigour, moving her way towards him. Frodo wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He. Was. Not. _Dead._ With determined cries, Merry and Pippin jumped onto the troll's shoulders. Ira paused for a moment as she watched them stab their short blades into the beast's skin. The troll knocked Merry off very quickly, but when reaching for Pippin, it exposed its neck, giving Eleniel the chance to finally end it. A single arrow to the chin killed the beast, and it flopped onto a ground.

Concerned for Frodo, Ira began moving towards the others. An orc grabbed her, though, and then she felt something long, sharp and cold plunging into her side. She screamed out "Son of a bitch!" in anger as she whipped around and sliced at the foul thing, momentarily causing a few to glance at her as it died, choking on its own blood. No one noticed her injury, their attention quickly going to the most important life there.

Ira looked up to see the whole of the Fellowship running towards Frodo, and took the time to check her injury. She was lucky, she realised, when looking down at her wound; the knife that stabbed her hadn't struck anything important, and adrenaline was helping to keep the pain of both her side and her arm from her notice. That didn't mean she felt right, however.

In fact, she could feel the blood draining from her face, and her whole body growing weak suspiciously quickly. Ira's legs buckled. Though, because everyone else was concentrating on the other man, no one saw this. Holding back a groan of irritation, Ira used one hand to press against her stab wound, the other to keep her from collapsing completely. The blade that had struck her was poisoned. It was the most logical explanation for her sudden wooziness.

Sam's relieved voice suddenly met her sensitive ears. "He's alive!"

Ira glanced up and watched as Frodo sat up slowly, apparently winded. Frankly, she wasn't surprised; that was one hell of a hit. "I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Aragorn stared at him in disbelief. "You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf said mysteriously. The little hobbit, after seeming to understand, parted his shirt to reveal a silver and white vest beneath the fabric.

"Mithril!" Gimli exclaimed. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!"

Someone was suddenly by her side, and Ira looked up to see Legolas gently prying her hand away from her side. "Let me see," he told her softly.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to push him away, but he just gave her a flat look. Ira sighed. Peeling her hand away, she allowed Legolas to see the extent of the damage. Legolas' brow furrowed, and he quickly tugged on the hem of his tunic, ripping it to use as a make-shift bandage.

Alduin suddenly appeared by her side and helped her to her feet once Legolas was done. "You should have been more careful," he told her sternly, and while it was cold, Ira could detect the genuine concern in his deep voice.

Ira rolled her eyes. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"Barely," he muttered.

Ira scoffed. "I haven't survived this long just to be killed by a bloody orc." Before he could respond, squeals and screams suddenly came in through the broken door, and Ira sighed. "Not again."

"To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm!" Gandalf shouted, and suddenly Ira found herself being dragged alongside her mate, while Legolas moved to usher the hobbits along.

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**There ya go! Meet Dwin!**

**Hopefully I'll have the next one up this afternoon, too.**

**Until then!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Dwin belongs to Mac Gustah, and everyone else belongs to either Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: So here's chapter two of three for this weekend!**

* * *

**Chapter 16:**

The group ran out of the door, Ira grumpily having to clutch onto Alduin so she didn't fall over or lag behind, as much as she hated it. She was grown woman, for Talos' sake! The Dragonborn of legend! She shouldn't need someone to help her. Although, even she would admit to herself that the alternative right now was considerably worse.

Thousands of orcs swarmed around them, jumping out of cracks in the ground and crawling from the ceilings along massive pillars. Under any other circumstances, Ira would probably have taken a minute more to admire the apparently gravity-defying architecture of the dwarves. But she couldn't. At least, not unless she wanted to be killed instantly. At which point, staring at the architecture would be the last thing she ever did. Not exactly the end she would want. Eventually they were forced to stop, completely surrounded by the creatures. Ira grit her teeth as her heavy breathing jarred the rather serious wound on her side. Alduin, apparently unconsciously, tightened his hold on her. The rest of the group held their weapons out, determined to die fighting, if nothing else. In the corner of her eye, Ira saw Dwin's arms were shaking from the strain of having to hold up his heavy weapons for so long.

Before anything could happen, however, a great roar was heard from an archway far ahead, which glowed red like the fire of a blacksmith's forge. The orcs were suddenly worried, which massively disturbed the Dragonborn. What could possibly scare thousands of gangly things? She could only think of one thing, and it sent cold shivers down her spine and caused dread to settle in the pit of her stomach. The growl was heard again, echoing around the massive space and making it seem like the whole room was shaking. This time, the orcs screeched in terror and scattered. Gimli laughed, seemingly mocking their cowardice. Ira (along most of the companions, it seemed) was suddenly very much inclined to join them in retreat.

Boromir's eyes were wide with fear as he stepped up to Gandalf. "What is this new devilment?" He whispered, and Ira could hear the concern in his voice. So could Eleniel, apparently, for she took a step closer to him, offering her presence as comfort.

Gandalf took a long moment to answer, a look of dread on his aged face, his voice resigned and suddenly seeming to hold the weight of someone who had seen far too much. "A Balrog. A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

They ran as fast as they could, Ira embarrassingly stumbling along behind as she held her sword with one hand, and used the other to grip her still weeping wound. Boromir, with Eleniel beside him, raced ahead of them all and went down some steps, before finding that the steps ended above a great chasm. He teetered on the edge, flailing his arms in his attempt to regain his balance so he wouldn't fall. Eleniel darted up to him and pulled him back away from the edge. Ira had tears in her eyes by the time she stopped; the rough, fast pace they were being forced to run was jarring her injury too much, and the pain was becoming unbearable, not to mention her limbs were gradually becoming ever heavier due to the poison in her blood.

"Lead them on, Aragorn. The bridge is near!" Gandalf said urgently when they all paused.

The narrow bridge was visible in the distance, but to get there the company had to make their way down a crumbling set of stone stairs. Ira almost groaned at the thought of having to go _so far_ with what little strength she had left slowly draining away. "You have _got_ to be joking," she grumbled under her breath, though she had a feeling one or two people may have heard her.

Gandalf pushed Aragorn away. "Do as I say!" He snapped. Aragorn looked at the old man, confused and thoroughly concerned. Gandalf walked past him, his wise gaze meeting Ira's pain filled eyes. "Swords are of no more use here."

They turned and ran down the steps in front of them, which wound their way towards the bridge. They reached the gap in the staircase very quickly. Legolas jumped easily over the gap and looked expectantly at the others. They heard another roar behind them, and the red glow grew more intense around the small doorframe. A rumble caused the roof above their heads to start to crumble and fall.

Legolas beckoned, his gaze wild and frantic for the first time since Ira had met him – and that was saying a lot, for she had known him quite a while. "Gandalf!"

Gandalf jumped over the gap to join the elf, who caught the old man without much effort. Arrows suddenly zipped through the air, one of them narrowly missing Ira's foot. She swore quietly in the dragon language. Legolas turned and drew an arrow, aimed it, then shot the creature directly in the head. It crumpled to the ground and fell off its perch down into the abyss below.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir shouted, gripping each of them under each arm. They jumped across the gap. As they did so, a large chunk of the steps were fell away.

Aragorn looked around frantically. "Sam!" He picked him up and threw him across the gap to Boromir - who caught him - then turned to Gimli.

The dwarf held up his hand, throwing his nose in the air. "Nobody tosses a dwarf!" He then leapt as far as he could and landed on the other side, right on the edge of the staircase. Just as he began to fall backwards, Legolas reached out to stop him by grabbing his beard. "Mind the beard!" Gimli yelped, but Legolas ignored him and pulled him up.

Ghardaz and Eleniel then went together, and just as their feet left the stairs, more of them away. Aragorn threw Frodo to safety further up the steps and Ira grabbed him, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot through her whole body at the movement. Aragorn had to cling onto the stairs for a moment, before he managed to haul himself to his feet.

"Aragorn!" Ira growled as Frodo attempted to dart forward, grasping his wrist and pulling him back automatically, only to cry out when her skin tore even further around her wound and a new, fresh flood of blood began to seep through her clothes. For a moment, Ira could have sworn she felt something inside her body, and she wondered suddenly if there was a blade shard left in her. Alduin gripped her hand tightly as Aragorn grabbed hold of the dark haired hobbit, and the staircase they were stood on began to wobble precariously.

Ira began to drift in and out of consciousness, and every time she succumbed to the darkness her body would sag against her husband's. He gripped her even tighter every time.

Before she knew it, the staircase fell heavily forward towards the rest of the group. Ira was roughly thrown forwards, and she landed in Boromir's arms. She hid a grimace of pain and quickly pushed herself away from him, offering him a weak smile of thanks.

They ran quickly into another room. Well, the rest ran, Ira just tried not to fall behind. The whole mine was now going up in flames, the temperature rising with every passing moment.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf yelled. He waited for the others to pass. "Fly!"

Gandalf turned towards the growing menace as soon as he knew the others were safe. From out of the midst of the fire a great black, winged creature with a horned head appeared. Its eyes glowed the same colour as the flames. Ira's heart rate picked up significantly as she watched the balrog lash out at Gandalf.

"Go back to the shadow." Gandalf yelled, his voice finally breaking through Ira's weariness. The great beast placed a foot on the bridge. It wielded a great, glowing whip, and cracked it threateningly. "You. Shall. Not. Pass!" Gandalf raised his staff high above his head, before bringing it down on the stone with a resounding crack.

The balrog growled, raised its whip, and took another large step forward. Doing this made the thin bridge collapse, and the balrog fell into the chasm far below them, roaring as it went. Gandalf turned and his eyes met Ira's for some reason, which were drooping. The balrog's whip suddenly snaked up and around Gandalf's ankle, dragging him over the edge of the bridge. He clung onto it in vain, his survival instinct taking over. Frodo tried to dash towards him, but Boromir held him back, managing to overpower him due to his superior size and strength.

"Gandalf!" The hobbit shrieked.

A flash of red suddenly whizzed past everyone, and Ira felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw Eleniel charge forwards, running agilely along the length of the bridge. Instantly, the haze in her mind faded, and Ira pushed away from Alduin.

"Eleniel!"

She ran after her goddaughter, heart pounding in her chest. Gandalf looked upon the group one last time, his eyes lingering on Frodo longest. "Fly you fools!" His fingers lost their grip, and he tumbled down. Eleniel lunged over the edge to grab him, but she didn't get far, as he was too far down for her to reach, and Ira had grabbed hold of her free arm. A shout tore itself from the Dragonborn's lips as her wound ripped even further, but she grit her teeth against the pain and pulled Eleniel up over the edge.

"Ira!"

Her body sagged, and she would have fallen into the cavern had Eleniel's thin arms not supported her. She was quickly ushered back along the bridge, where Alduin took her into his arms again, sweeping her off her feet for she was too weak to walk on her own, and the whole company quickly became a whir of activity as they ran out of Moria. Now the balrog had been defeated, the orcs began firing at them again, but luckily none of them were hit.

Sunlight came into view, and they burst out into the open, breathing deeply and despairing. Alduin, as soon as he was a decent distance from the mine entrance, lowered Ira to the ground and began untying Legolas' makeshift bandage to assess her stab wound. His eyes were emotionless as he pushed up her top as much as necessary. A low hiss escaped his lips as he looked at the wound.

"We need to keep moving," Ira vaguely heard Aragorn say. Her senses were seriously dulled, however, so she wasn't entirely sure if what she heard was true.

Boromir snapped back at him. "Give them a moment for pity's sake!"

Alduin looked up and called to his friend. "We go nowhere until Ira has been seen to."

Boromir, Legolas and Aragorn were by her side in an instant. All three of them had such grief in their eyes that Ira had to look away. She felt bad that Gandalf's death, while horrifying, did not grieve her especially. The Dragonborn winced as Aragorn pressed at her side. Something pricked inside her. His brow furrowed, and he turned to the others. "Boromir, Legolas, Alduin, get everyone up. We need to reach the woods of Lothlórien before nightfall." Boromir and Legolas quickly stood to get everyone ready to leave, as instructed, but Alduin didn't move, sending the ranger a stubborn glare. Aragorn hesitated, before speaking. "There is a blade shard left in her wound," he told the dragon. "The healers of Lothlórien will be able to deal with it, but I'm afraid I can't do anything."

Finally, Aduin and Ira nodded, both of them noticing the urgency in Aragorn's voice when he talked about moving on. Alduin helped her to her feet, but the sudden shift caused the world to tilt, and before Ira could do anything to fight it, darkness washed over her, and she fell into unconsciousness.

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**Until next time!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I only own the usual. Everyone else is not mine (duh)**

**A/N: And three of three. Enjoy!**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: Yes, man :)**

* * *

**Chapter 17:**

The first thing Ira noticed upon regaining her senses was that she was gently bumping. She must have been in someone's arms as they walked - or ran, as the case probably was in this case. Letting out a soft groan, Ira let her eyes slide slowly open. The bumping stopped immediately.

"Aragorn, she's awake!" Alduin called from very close by.

She heard muted, soft footfalls, and then felt herself being lowered onto some soft grass. Glancing up when a shadow blocked out the sun, Ira saw Aragorn's concerned gaze as he knelt down beside her.

His warm hand pressed against her forehead. "At least your fever's broken," he said softly. He glanced downwards. "How's your side?"

Ira shrugged. "I can't feel it at the moment," she admitted. "Though I can tell you've not got any bandages to spare; the material you used is irritating my skin."

Aragorn nodded. "We had to make do with what we had."

Ira huffed. "I'm sure it'll be fine for now." She then looked around. "Where are we?"

Aragorn smiled. "We should reach the borders of Lothlórien in about three hours."

Ira nodded and then began pushing herself up into a sitting position. She clenched her jaw when pain flared up in her side, but made no noise. Alduin's strong hands were on her arms in an instant, and he helped her to her feet, before going back to his job of walking beside her to make sure she didn't suddenly faint. Ira loathed the fact that this was necessary, but was grateful that she had the aid nonetheless.

Moving fairly slowly, the remnants of the Fellowship made their way through many open fields and soon the great mallorn trees of the Golden Wood came into view. Ira watched in amusement as all the hobbits' jaws fell slack, and even Boromir and Gimli seemed in awe of the giant trees. Only Aragorn, Alduin, Ira and Legolas had no visible reaction.

...

Thankfully the Dragonborn had managed to stay conscious over the next few hours, though at times she felt extremely dizzy and a little nauseous. She was glad when they walked into the borders of the Lothlórien, and her grip on Alduin's shoulder relaxed a little. He clearly noticed the difference, because he glanced at her.

Gimli's voice suddenly rang out from behind her. "Stay close, young hobbits. They say a sorceress lives in these woods. An elf witch, of terrible power." He scoffed. "Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," Gimli huffed. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

All of a sudden, they were surrounded by elves, all pointing arrows at them, emotionless faces revealing nothing, though Ira could have sworn she caught a spark or two of curiosity flash in their eyes upon seeing the group.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," the leader drawled condescendingly, stepping forward, a half-scowl on his face.

Aragorn bowed and greeted him in elvish, revealing this new elf to be called 'Haldir'. Aragorn turned to face the group, and his eyes fell on Ira, who was still leaning quite heavily against her mate. "We require the protection of these woods," he said lowly, speaking so everyone could understand him. "We have travelled long and far to get here, and it was not without sacrifices. A member of our group is gravely injured."

"You bring a great darkness with you," Haldir warned. "We all feel it. But the Lady has already welcomed your presence here, as you were expected. Come, she is waiting." Haldir turned then and began leading them all through the forest.

...

They walked until nightfall, and even then they had not made it to their destination. They climbed into the trees using ladders, and stopped halfway up one of them, where wooden platforms were placed over the branches. A healer was brought forth, and Ira was led away from the group. A few looked like they wished to follow (strangely, Frodo was among them, though Ira hadn't really spoken to him, so didn't understand why), but none did.

Ira was directed to lie down on a soft bed, and she did so with the occasional grunt or grimace. It was not much more than a thick piece of fabric, but she was grateful for the comfort it brought. The area she was in was covered by the thick leaves around her, meaning no moonlight seeped onto her face. The healer began murmuring in elvish, but Ira didn't bother paying attention to what she was saying. Her message was clear enough: this was going to hurt.

Ira nodded and clamped her eyes shut, grasping the material beneath her body in her hands. A second later, something sharp pierced her skin. A suppressed scream left her throat. There were four elves surrounding her, holding her still, though they seemed to struggle against Ira's unusual strength. She had tears in her eyes by the time it was over. She hissed as something thick and cold was pressed against her side - no doubt some kind of medicinal paste - but was thankful the worst was over.

A bandage was secured around her waist. She was then ordered to stay where she was. It was frustrating having to stay still, for Ira was, by her very nature, a wanderer. Even so, the Dragonborn knew better than to argue or disobey the healer's orders.

Ira lay still and silent, staring up at the dark canopy of leaves fluttering above her head. Voices suddenly came into her hearing range. Turning towards the direction the voices came from, Ira watched as the entirety of the Fellowship - Dwin included, much to her surprise - approached her and sat by her 'bed'.

Pippin looked at her hopefully. "Are you going to be alright?" The way he said it made him sound like an innocent, curious child.

Ira couldn't help but smile slightly, as did many of the others. "I will be eventually. The blade shard was removed, so I can heal now." She patted his hand comfortingly.

"Is there anything we can get you, Ira?" Legolas asked softly.

Ira rolled her eyes. "Just because I'm injured, it odesn't mean you can treat me like an invalid. I'm fine. All I want to do right now is move about a little."

Aragorn stood. "I'll talk to the healer." Then he walked off. Ira watched him for a moment, before shrugging.

"Can I ask you and Alduin a question?"

Ira looked at Legolas in mild curiosity, raising an eyebrow. "What sort of question?"

"A personal one."

"Well, that would depend on the question, then, wouldn't it?" She replied with a grin.

Legolas rolled his eyes, knowing from his years of knowing her that this was her way of saying 'go ahead'.

"Are you two married? I've noticed recently you've been more open with your affections towards one another."

"If it disturbs you, you could always go elsewhere," Ira stated dryly, and Alduin rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her. "But, yes, we got married a few months ago."

"Ira!" Eleniel said scoldingly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, were the rings too subtle for you?" Ira joked, and Eleniel sent her a childish pout that had her godmother grinning.

Aragorn suddenly returned, and he was smiling. "The healer has given you permission to stay with us for the night, as long as you do nothing too strenuous," he reported lightly. Well, as lightly as possible. Everyone was still grieving over the loss of Gandalf, after all.

Ira grinned, and with the help of Pippin (oddly) and Alduin, got to her feet. They then led her to a large platform where nine bedrolls had been laid out for them to sleep in. Ira pushed herself away from her help and walked forwards slowly. The moon slid into view above her head, a very thin crescent. Smiling, Ira gazed up at the bright stars and clear sky. The twinkled merrily down at her, covering her face in a pale, white light. She vaguely wondered in the back of her mind which star was Amicitia, if any. As if ansering her unspoken thought, one particular star shone even brighter, and Ira smiled sadly up at it.

After a few minutes of star-gazing, Ira felt tiredness seep into her limbs, and she crawled slowly into her bed, lying so she was still facing the sky. She put an arm under her head to use as extra support, and her other one was draped over her front. Ira drifted to sleep under the cool light of the moon and stars.

…

They were on the move again later than Ira had expected they'd be. Then again, she supposed, they had no need to be urgent now, so started moving three hours after the sun had risen. The extra sleep was a gift to them all. The real problem had been Ira's healer, who insisted she should not walk all the way to the capital in her condition. The brunette had insisted she would be fine repeatedly, but the healer had ignored her. In the end, the argument was resolved by Aragorn's quick words and apparently overall persuasive skills. That was the second time in just a few hours he had put them to work, both ending up in his favour.

For many hours they trudged between the massive trees. Ira had noticed Frodo was particularly weary on his feet, and had almost fell asleep twice. Both times she had caught him just as he was about to collapse, and he was brought back to reality with a jerk.

Around noon, they stopped for a quick lunch of dried fruit, seeds and nuts - much to Gimli and Ghardaz's dismay. And the dwarf wasn't against making his complaints known, either. Ira had ended up cuffing him over the head and snapping at him to shut up or she would 'shove his boot so far up his ass he'd soon be coughing it up'. Needless to say, he kept his mouth shut after that, much to the amusement of the others.

They reached their destination at night. Spiral staircases wound around the thick, wide tree trunks, and they were led up one of them. Ira noticed that Alduin hovered behind her, no doubt prepared to catch or steady her should she stumble, and rolled her eyes at his uncharacteristic protectiveness. She felt no more than the odd twinge in her side now, and even then it was a rare occurrence.

Eventually they came upon a large silver courtyard at the top of three trees. Sat above them in elegant thrones were two elves - a male and a female. Both seemed ageless, as was the case with all pure-blooded elves. The woman – Lady Galadriel - was the most beautiful elf Ira had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was flawless and her hair golden, falling like a silken curtain around her shoulders down to her waist. Lord Celeborn's hair was silver, and trailing to the bottoms of his shoulder blades. His, though, was dead straight. They both rose in unison, and walked down to where the group had stopped.

"You bring great evil with you," the male said gravely. "The Enemy knows you have entered these woods." He looked over them. "Twelve there are here, and yet thirteen set out from Rivendell." His eyes swept over them. "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him?"

Galadriel's airy voice replied for the Fellowship. "He has fallen into shadow."

"Shadow and flame," Legolas said sadly. "He was taken by a balrog of Morgoth, for we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of Gandalf's actions in life." Celeborn stated, though he seemed surprised to hear that the wizard had been killed.

"Your quest stands upon the edge of a knife." Galadriel told them. "Stray but a little and you will fail... to the ruin of all. Yet hope still remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace." She sent the company a soft smile and they were led away from this courtyard.

As Ira walked she heard Galadriel's voice in her mind, making her jump._ 'You bring a great anger into this realm, Dragonborn of Skyrim. However, once you leave these trees your path will take you beyond the reach of the hold of the Dark Lord. You will face much despair and pain. But do not give up hope, and everything will come together as it should.'_

Ira frowned at those words, but said nothing to her companions as they wound round and round the great grey trunk, towards the base of the tree.

* * *

**Et voila!**

**Until next week, my lovelies.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I only Own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Dwin belongs to Mac Gustah. The rest belong to Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: Hi! I actually managed to get an update on time (*achievement unlocked*), which honestly surprised me because I've spent the last two days painting bookshelves in our gaming room. My hands still have paint on them -_-**

**Big thanks to: silverhawk88, FeyTheEpic, moonlightkiss1515, The All Powerful Genie God (nice), KrystylSky and Scuttered for favouriting/following. You guys are amazing!**

**Additional thanks to jsun25 for my 100th review.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Haha, cheer man! As for your other comment, the story will split into two (possibly even three) POV, so there should be more about the other characters. I know what you mean though. And yes, you should DEFINITELY continue with the medieval thing. Has my sides splitting every time. Serious, dude, it's amazingly hilarious.**

**Ny'Kle: I'm glad you're enjoying it... XD**

**Rhettbutler: I didn't mean to make them rushed, although it may have seemed that way because I was trying to get out three times as many chapters as normal. Hopefully this one is better. As for Dwin, you'll find out more about him soon.**

**moonlightkiss1515: Here ya go! And thanks, too!**

**jsun25: I'm gonna go with (excuse my language) a fuck-ton of magicka.**

* * *

**Chapter 18:**

That night the Fellowship slept upon the ground, much to the satisfaction of the hobbits. The elves spread for them a pavilion beneath the trees and near a fountain, and in it they laid soft couches; then speaking words of peace with fair elvish voices they left them. For a little while the travellers talked of their night before in the treetops, and of their day's journey, and of the mysterious Lord and Lady; for they had not the heart yet to look further back.

"What did you blush for, Sam?" Said Pippin. "You soon broke down. Anyone would have thought you had a guilty conscience. I hope it was nothing worse that a wicked plot to steal one of my blankets."

"I never thought no such thing," answered Sam indignantly, in no mood for jest. "If you want to know, I felt as if I hadn't got nothing on, and I didn't like it. She seemed to be looking inside me and asking me what I would do if she gave me the chance of flying back home to the Shire to a nice little hole with... with a bit of garden of my own."

The simplicity of Sam's reply brought a tired smile to Ira's youthful face, however her eyes belied the rest of her body - her form was one of strength and vigil, but her eyes were dulled to the point where their spark was practically non-existent. In the last hour, the bone-crushing weight of what had happened in Moria shook her to the core, and Ira finally felt the grief and sorrow for the loss of such a great friend and companion hit her. While wallowing in her grief, she lost all will to do anything but sit and listen with one ear to the conversations fluttering around her.

"That's funny," said Merry. "Almost exactly what I felt myself; only, only well, I don't think I'll say any more," he ended lamely.

"And it would seem to me, too," said Gimli, "that my choice would remain secret and known only to myself."

"To me it seemed exceedingly strange," uttered Boromir with a thoughtful frown. "Maybe it was only a test, and she thought to read our thoughts for her own good purpose; but almost I should have said she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give. It need not be said that I refused to listen. The men of Minas Tirith are true to their word." But what he thought that the Lady had offered him Boromir did not tell.

"And what of you, Princess?" Pippin queried.

Eleniel sent him a soft smile. "The Lady offered me the chance to go home, to my family. I miss them all dearly. I am not afraid to admit it; everyone desires their home, and my heart longs to see the mountain again, but I cannot turn from this path."

"It would seem my people are too new to this world," Ghardaz told them. "The Lady told me there was nothing she could offer to have real sway over me. She merely warned me that I would very soon have to choose one of three paths."

"What paths?" Asked Frodo.

"I couldn't tell you, for I do not know myself."

"I am loathe to admit it," Dwin spoke up, startling them all, for he was hidden in the shadows of a great tree, and so none knew he was even with them, "but she offered me an escape. I have no bindings to you, other than a life debt. But inside my head, I suffer daily, and she offered me the easiest escape from madness."

A hollow, haunted voice reached out from Ira's lips. "She offered you death."

"Aye," Dwin said gravely. "And I was close to accepting. But while I owe you all something it will take a long time to repay, I must travel North to Erebor, for they are awaiting news of Moria that they are long overdue, and I have a family waiting for me there."

"Then you may travel with us," Alduin offered. This caused many eyes to fall on him.

"We always planned to go with you all the way, Frodo," Ira told the halfling quietly, "but there are other issues that now draw our attention further North. Another force fights against not just this world, but the Aedra of Nirn (as it was before) as well. Alduin and I will not venture with you from here, for our path takes us to the Iron Mountains."

Legolas tilted his head to the side slightly. "What awaits you in Dain's kingdom?"

"An army of orcs unlike any you see in the Wild," Alduin explained gravely. "An old servant of Morgoth has tampered with them, giving them qualities of greater beasts. But Fankil is also stealing the powers of the Eyra, and with it he has stolen our second bodies."

"Fankil!" Legolas despaired. "I believed him long gone, as do the rest of my kin and the world."

"Hidden, but not gone. Much like Sauron, he waited in the shadows until the time was right. He has been working against us and many others for a long time."

"But Akatosh - the chief deity of my world - has commanded we destroy him, and the army he has hidden within those mountains," said Ira. "It is for this very reason we must part from you."

"At least see us off when we leave," Eleniel begged. Ira smiled slightly at her, and nodded.

Aragorn suddenly shifted, and attention fell then on him. "I think it is wise that we find sleep now," the ranger said. "We have faced much in the last hours, and I know I am weary both in body and in heart. Fortunately, we are safer underneath these trees than we have been since Rivendell." He cast himself down upon his couch and fell at once into a long sleep.

The others soon did the same, and no sound or dream disturbed their slumber. When they woke they found that the light of the dawn was broad upon the grass before the pavilion, and the fountain water rose and fell glittering in the sun.

...

They remained some days in Lothlórien, so far as they could tell or remember, for each day seemed to blend together. All the while that they dwelt there the sun shone clear, save for a gentle rain that fell at times, and passed away leaving all things fresh and clean. The air was cool and soft, as if it were the early spring, yet they felt about them the deep and thoughtful quiet of winter. It seemed to them that did little but eat and drink and rest, and among the trees; and for a while, it was enough.

But on the eve of their fifth day in Lórien, the Fellowship was summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words. At length Celeborn spoke of their departure.

"Now is the time," he said, "when those who wish to continue the quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. For we are come now to the edge of doom. Here those who wish may await the oncoming of the hour till either the ways of the world lie open again, or we summon them to the last need of Lórien. Then they may return to their own lands, or else go to the long home of those that fall in battle."

There was a silence, but Galadriel broke it before another could speak. "They all resolved to go forward," said Galadriel looking in their eyes. "Whether to the Gates of Mordor or to the North, none have chosen to linger here."

"As for me," said Boromir, "my way home lies onward and not back."

"That is true," said Celeborn, "but is this company going with you to Minas Tirith?"

"We have not decided our course," said Aragorn. "Beyond Lothlórien I do not know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed I do not think even he had any clear purpose."

"Maybe not," the elf Lord conceded, "yet when you leave this land, you can no longer forget the Great River. As some of you well know, it cannot be crossed by travellers with baggage between Lórien and Gondor, save by boat. And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken down and all the landings held now by the Enemy?

"On which side will you journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon this side, upon the West; but the straight road of the quest lies East of the River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now take?"

"If my advice is heeded, it will be the Western shore, and the way to Minas Tirith," answered Boromir. "But I am not the leader of the company." The others said nothing, and Aragorn looked both doubtful and troubled.

"I see that you do not yet know what to do," said Celeborn. "It is not my part to choose for you; but I will help you as I may. There are some among you who can handle the boats: Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest River; and Boromir of Gondor; and Aragorn the traveller." His ancient eyes fell upon Alduin and Ira, who stood together in silence. "There are others here can handle the fast water, yet I sense they are not to continue to Mordor with the Ring-bearer."

"And one hobbit!" Merry cried. "Not all of us look on boats as wild horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine."

"That is well," the Lord said with an almost imperceptible smile upon his lips. "Then I will furnish your company with boats. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are places where you will be forced to carry them. You will come to the rapids of Sarn Gebir, and maybe at last to the great falls of Rauros where the River thunders down from Nen Hithoel; and there are other perils. Boats may make your journey less toilsome for a time. Yet they will not give you counsel: in the end you must leave them and the River, and turn west - or east."

Ira noticed the Fellowship brightened at this news, and she knew they were thankful they would not have to spend as many days walking with heavy bags on their backs.

"All shall be prepared for you and await you at the haven before noon tomorrow," Celeborn promised them. "I will send my people to you in the morning to help you make ready for the journey. Now we will wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep."

"Goodnight, my friends!" Galadriel said. "Sleep in peace. Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thoughts of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them. Goodnight!"

...

Alduin, with Ira at his side, stood on the bank of the Great River. Dwin had agreed to meet them along the Northern borders of the forest, for he believed he would feel out of place when saying goodbye to the Fellowship. He had not known them long enough for his presence to be desired or required, as he said.

He was startled out of his minor lapse in attention when he felt the warmth of Ira's body move away from him, and he turned his head to see Ira embracing her goddaughter fondly. Eleniel looked to be on the verge of tears, and while Alduin could detect the sorrow in his wife's eyes, he knew she would not openly cry.

"I wish you luck on your endeavour," Legolas said, appearing at his side. "I only hope it is fruitful."

"You and me both," Alduin muttered. He placed a warm hand on Legolas' shoulder, an elvish sign of friendship. "You are travelling with brave and courageous people, but I fear your journey from here on out will not be easy. Be cautious."

"And you as well. Facing down a servant of Morgoth is dangerous."

Smirking, Alduin told the elf, "Don't forget who you're talking to, Princeling."

Legolas rolled his eyes, before moving to say farewell to Ira. Eleniel was quick to take his place, and she swiftly pulled Alduin into a hug. He was highly uncomfortable with the physical contact, but he wrapped his arms around her anyway. Eleniel may have been Ira's goddaughter, but the girl had wormed her way into his heart regardless. She was _his_ family too.

"Take care of yourself, Eleniel," he told her sternly as they pulled apart.

Eleniel nodded. "You too." She cracked a weak smile. "I guess I'll see you in a few months."

In an act of impulsive affection, Alduin leaned forward and pressed a short kiss to her brow. "_**Erei borii mu grind, Kulaas. (Until next we meet, Princess.)**_"

"_**Zu'u frolok amativ wah nii. (I look forward to it.)**_" She replied in unpractised dovahzul. Still, the message was clear. Alduin nodded, before Eleniel turned and climbed into her boat, along with Ghardaz. Ira came to Alduin's side and took his hand as the Fellowship pushed away from the bank, paddling swiftly downriver. They remained unmoving until long after they sailed out of view.

Ira was the first to move, and she did so by leaning her head on Alduin's shoulder. "Do you think they'll be successful?"

"I do," he answered. "I have faith in them." He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. "Come on, there's a dwarf waiting for us."

"Not to mention a skin-changer, a sick forest, a crazed maia and an army of mutant orcs."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "One step at a time, Ira."

Ira snorted and grinned up at him. "That's dull." Then she disappeared into the trees with a dramatic flourish of her new, elvish cloak. Shaking his head, Alduin trudged after her.

* * *

**Right, so from here I'm going to move between Alduin, Ira and Dwin, and the rest. Don't know if I'll cover Frodo and Sam's part as well once they split up, but we'll see when the time comes.**

**Until next weekend, my lovelies!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I only own Eleniel, Ira and Ghardaz. Dwin belongs to Mac Gustah.**

**A/N: So this switches between the Fellowship and Ira, Alduin and Dwin quite a lot. That'll happen. There will hopefully be some longer scenes, though.**

**Big thanks to: .9, Montigo66, silentnight00, diabolo88000, werewolf36, FubarDuck91, Death Harbringer and rmnlegion for following/favouriting. Cheers guys, you're amazing!**

**Review response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: I'm glad you think so. And I don't care if it was short. Anyways, enjoy your castle and tavern ;)**

**Ny'Kle: You'll probably hear/learn more about him as the story progresses further.**

* * *

**Chapter 19:**

Aragorn led them to the right arm of the River. Here upon its Western side under the shadow of Tol Brandir a green lawn ran down to the water from the feet of Amon Hen. Behind it rose the first gentle slopes of the hill clad with trees, and trees marched away Westward along the curving shores of the lake. A little spring fell tumbling down and fed the grass.

"Here we will rest tonight," said Aragorn. "This is the lawn of Parth Galen; a fair place in the summer days of old. Let us hope that no evil has yet come here."

They drew up their boats on the green banks, and beside them they made their camp. They set a watch, but had no sight nor sound of their enemies. If Gollum, who had been shadowing their movements from within Moria itself, had contrived to follow them, he remained unseen and unheard. Nonetheless as the night wore on Aragorn grew uneasy, tossing often in his sleep and waking, seen only by the Princess of Erebor during her watch time, which had long since passed. In the small hours he got up and came to Frodo, whose turn it was to watch.

"Why are you waking? Asked Frodo.

"I do not know," answered Aragorn; "but a shadow and a threat has been growing in my sleep. It would be well to draw your sword."

"Why? Said Frodo, eyes looking frantically at their surroundings, but he saw no hint of danger. "Are enemies at hand?"

"Let us see what Sting may show," answered the Ranger.

Frodo drew the elf-blade from its sheath. To his dismay the edges gleamed dimly in the night. "Orcs!" He said. "Not very near, and yet too near, it seems."

"I feared as much," Aragorn said with a weary sigh. "But maybe they are not on this side of the River. The light of Sting is faint, and may point to no more than the spies of Mordor roaming on the slopes of Amon Lhaw. I have never heard before of orcs upon Amon Hen. Yet who knows what may happen in these evil days, now that Minas Tirith no longer holds secure the passages of Anduin. We must go warily tomorrow."

...

Neither word nor birdsong could be heard in the empty plains North of Lothlórien. The three companions traipsed slowly Northward, towards the house of Beorn. For ten days they had walked through dull lands, scavenging on whatever meagre scraps could be found. They had gone without meat for four days, instead living only on the lembas bread of the elves (of which Dwin was not fond, by any means).

By Ira's reckoning, they would reach Beorn's house within the next two hours, provided there were no complications along the way. The had been lucky so far; no enemy had appeared, whether in front or behind them, that they could see.

When the sun was at its peak in the sky, they stopped for a quick lunch of lembas bread and a few berries Dwin had stumbled across that morning. Alduin was quick to leave for a round of scouting once they were done.

Ira turned to face the dwarf. Since conversation was so sparse in these lands, Ira knew very little of this dwarf - only that he was from an ancient dwarven family called the Blacklocks, who were famed among their race to be fierce and formidable warriors.

Slightly apprehensive of his reaction, Ira asked him, "Those scars on your face; how did you get them?" Though often hidden by his hair, Ira had noticed he bore a long scar on his left cheek, which stretched all the way down to his jaw, and another, smaller scar that crossed his right eyebrow. Due to his long years without sunlight, however, the scars almost matched the pale colour of his skin, and so were invisible unless you looked close enough.

Dwin chuckled to himself. "Funnily enough," he said, "it was in a bar fight. Shame, really; it would make for a prettier story had it been a real battle."

"A bar fight," Ira echoed. "With weapons?"

"It's not uncommon in dwarf inns," the dwarf supplied with a shrug. "I got into a fight with another dwarf for..." He frowned, then shrugged once more. "I don't even remember why. Anyway, we got into a fight for some reason and the fella had a sharp pair of knuckledusters on when it happened. That's how I got this one." He gestured to the scar over his eyebrow.

"And the other?"

"Well, that was more the aftermath than the actual fight. He learned that day not to mess with Dwin Blacklock. Ha!" He barked out a single laugh, and Ira raised her eyebrow in amusement. "Needless to say, his lass wasn't very happy when he went home all bashed up and bruised."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ira looked incredulously at the raven haired dwarf who just grinned. "You're saying that you - a warrior from a family _famous_ for being able to fight - got a massive scar... from a dwarrowdam?!"

"It's not like I was expecting it!" Dwin defended while Ira held back an ear-splitting grin. "She came up to me all red in the face and started yelling. I thought that was gonna be it. Then suddenly there was a blinding pain in my cheek and the lass was holding a steak knife!"

Ira more or less keeled over from laughter.

Her voice carried through the air and met the ears of her husband, who paused in his job to glance back, only to see her with her head thrown back. A faint smile twitched at his lips at her mirth, before he continued onwards to complete his duty. When he reached the crest of a hill, a familiar scene met his eyes - in front of his was a small forest, and beyond that, a great, stone wall and house.

Ira had only just regained her composure when Alduin joined them again. "I can see Beorn's house," he reported.

Ira practically beamed at him. "Excellent! I need a decent meal."

Alduin rolled his eyes, while Dwin snorted. "If I recall," the dragon said dryly, "Master Beorn had little to eat in his house beyond honey and cream."

Ira shrugged. "It's better than lembas bread."

"At this rate, _anything _is better than lembas bread," Dwin grumbled, and Ira rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him.

"Well, we best get a move on, then," Alduin stated.

...

The day came like fire and smoke. Low in the East there were black bars of cloud like the fumes of a great burning. The rising sun lit them from beneath with flames of mirky red; but it soon climbed above them into a clear sky. The summit of Tol Brandir was tipped with gold. Eleniel looked out Eastward and gazed at the tall island. Its sides sprang sheer out of the running water. High up above the tall cliffs were steep slopes upon which trees climbed, mounting one head above another; and above them again were grey faces of inaccessible rock, crowned by a great spire of stone. Many birds were circling about it, but no sign of other living things could be seen. And yet... Eleniel could not fight the feeling of dread that settled over her mind, nor could she stop her eyes from scanning their surroundings every few minutes.

When they had eaten, Aragorn called what remained of the Fellowship together. "The day has come at last," said he: "the day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our company that has travelled so far in fellowship? Shall we turn West with Boromir and go to the was of Gondor; or turn East to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot long halt here. The enemy is on the Eastern shore, we know; but I fear the orcs may already be on this side of the water."

There was a long silence in which no one spoke or moved.

"Well, Frodo," said Aragorn at last. "I fear that the burden must be laid upon you. You are the Ring-bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone must choose. In this matter, I'm afraid I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate."

Frodo did not answer at once. Then he spoke slowly. "I know that haste is needed, yet I cannot choose. The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone."

Aragorn looked at him with kindly pity. "Very well, Frodo son of Drogo," he said. "You shall have an hour, and you shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call."

Frodo sat for a moment with his head bowed. Sam, who had been watching his master with great concern, shook his head and muttered: "Plain as a pikestaff it is, but it's no good Sam Gamgee putting in his spoke just now."

Presently Frodo got up and walked away; and Sam saw that while the others restrained themselves and did not stare at him, the eyes of Boromir followed Frodo intently, until he passed out of sight in the trees at the foot of Amon Hen.

Eleniel, in a state of anxious worry, pulled her long red hair over her shoulder and began to idly fiddle with the end, eyes on the glistening river that sat before them, peaceful and tranquil. In her eyes, its serene qualities were actively mocking her troubled mind.

"Miss Eleniel?"

Pippin's timid voice met her ears, and Eleniel glanced down to see a rather despondent young hobbit. "Yes, Pippin?"

"Do you think Ira and Alduin are okay?"

Smiling slightly, Eleniel gently patted the hobbit's head, and he scrunched up his face, shaking out his hair as if it had been completely ruined by the light touch. She laughed lightly. "I'm sure they're fine," she told him, and while her voice sounded sincere, she couldn't stop herself from wondering whether what she told him was true. They'd be at the Carrock by now, had nothing gone wrong.

"Do you think they'll come back if they beat Fankil?" Asked Merry, sitting himself down on Eleniel's other side.

"I've no doubt," Eleniel responded, and this time the conviction was genuine. If they succeeded, they would be back with the Fellowship almost immediately. Hopefully as dragons. "But for now, try to focus on what _we_ are doing," she told them gently. Then, under her breath, she added, "We've enough to worry about as it is."

...

The absence of his wife at his side had Alduin pausing mid-step, looking over his shoulder to see Ira looking at the stone house in front of them with a frown on her face.

"Don't tell me your legs have turned to lead not a hundred metres from our destination," Dwin said dryly.

"Look."

Alduin turned his eyes, following her gaze, and he came across the large, hulking form of a dusty grey bear. His coat was almost the same colour as the stone wall, which made him difficult to see with just a quick glance. At first, the dragon was confused as to why such a sight would cause her to stop, but then it hit him.

Beorn was _brown_, not grey.

"That's not Beorn," he said, for Dwin's benefit more than Ira's.

"A child of his, perhaps?" She questioned, though her voice sounded doubtful.

"Maybe."

"Well, if that's the case, we've got nothing to worry about!" Dwin started forward, but Alduin yanked him back, scowling at the suddenly indignant dwarf.

"_**Vuth, hi hefhah,** **(Stop, you idiot,)**_" he hissed. "We don't know for certain whether this is bear is kin to Beorn, and regardless of whether he is or not, he does not know us, and so will immediately assume we are a threat."

"We should wait until he shifts into his human form," Ira spoke up, eyeing the bear warily. "That way we may stand a chance of approaching him without being attacked."

Dwin huffed. "Wait if you want, I'm going." And without another word he started marching towards the bear.

"Forget the bear," Alduin said, thoroughly annoyed. "_I'm_ going to be the one to kill him at this rate."

Ira sighed, long and deep. "Well, I suppose we ought to make sure he doesn't go and get himself mauled to death." With that, the two stepped out of the trees, following after their reckless companion.

* * *

**Chances are I will post a brand new story, separate to this one, once the Fellowship of the Ring is over. That being said, I would like to hear your opinions on the matter :)**

**Until next time.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Mac Gustah owns Dwin. Bethesda owns Alduin. The rest belong to Tolkien/Peter Jackson.**

**A/N: I know I said I was only going to update on weekends, but I'm off school now, so I have more time. I started this chapter about two hours ago and suddenly it's here. So, UPDATE!**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Luckily, it would seem your anticipation won't have to fester as long as I thought it would. And the pool chemical is called chlorine, mate. I would know - our old house had a pool. And Lion King is just upsetting. Don't be ashamed of that. And, no, I do not get the dog joke. XD  
P.S. PEBBLES!**

**Ny'Kle: I'm glad.**

**Comet5000: Thanks for taking the time to write that review. It's nice to know that my 'silent reviewers' (as I like to call them) are still enjoying this. And thanks for saying it's one of your favourites, it really gives me a boost. Tell you what, I'll dedicate this chapter to you :)**

* * *

**Chapter 20:**

Instantly the bear looked up, and his haunches raised. His eyes held a deadly fire, and his teeth were bared in anger at the three of them.

The response he got in return seemed to surprise him. Both Ira and Alduin's lips drew back over their teeth, and feral snarls escaped their lips. Dwin just stood there, arms folded over his chest. While Ira stepped forward to greet the bear, Alduin instead pushed Dwin back behind him, shooting the dwarf a sharp look that very clearly told him to stay where he was.

"We wish no harm upon you," Ira told the bear, and his ears pricked at the sound of her voice. "I know you can understand me. You're a skin-changer, aren't you?" The bear growled. "We won't hurt you," Ira reminded him. "We come here seeking lodgings with an old friend."

The bear huffed, then turned around and ambled away. Dwin grunted. "That worked well."

Ira smirked at him. "He's not leaving," she informed him. "He's going to shift."

"And he has to do that away from here?"

Ira shrugged. "I suspect it's more to do with a sense of decency than anything else. A shift between animal and human form tends to leave you bare as the day you were born."

"Ah." Dwin managed to make the single word sound so awkward that Ira bit back a laugh.

The three of them waited only a little over two minutes before the beorning came back, this time in the form of a towering man. His hair was mostly grey due to his age, however Ira detected a few brown streaks left, hinting at his natural colour. He was an even burlier man than Beorn had been, though less hairy. Hung over his shoulder was an axe for chopping wood.

He stopped a few metres in front of them, his blue eyes gazing coldly at them. "Who are you?" He questioned in a deep voice. "And what are you doing in these lands?"

"My name is Ira," the Dragonborn replied, "and this is my husband, Alduin, and our friend, Dwin. We came here to seek refuge with Beorn."

"Beorn?" His voice was suddenly both more hostile and more curious.

"We are friends of his from a long time ago," Ira supplied, frowning slightly at the defensiveness of his voice. "Alduin and I were members of Thorin Oakenshield's company."

His eyebrows raised, and he dropped his axe to the ground. "My father died seven years ago."

Ira sighed, face pinched with sorrow. She hadn't known Beorn long, yet the fact he was a skin-changer meant there was a strong sense of camaraderie between the two when they had departed. To hear of his death, especially after the loss of Gandalf, was difficult to take.

"You have our sympathies," Alduin told the giant man, gently rubbing Ira's arm to offer her comfort. She sent him a small smile of thanks.

"He spoke often of the company," the man commented idly, drawing attention back to him. His face seemed softer now. "Particularly, and I quote, the little wolf twins."

Ira chuckled. "That would be me and my sister. Well, before..."

The man nodded gravely. "I heard she lost her life in the Battle of the Five Armies, and you your second form."

"In a way, yes," Ira answered. "It was replaced, rather than lost completely."

The man huffed, before gesturing with his big hand for them to follow him. "Might I ask your name, sir?" Dwin asked, speaking for the first time.

The sharp gaze of the man seemed to be quite strong against Dwin's shoulders, for he sort of... slouched when it hit him. "Grimbeorn," came the eventual response, before he turned forward again. "May I assume that your passing through these lands means you are on a voyage to Erebor?"

"You can indeed," Alduin replied. "And while Erebor is Dwin's destination, Ira and I intend to continue from there to the Iron Mountains."

"Why would you want to go there?"

"A servant of Morgoth is amassing an army within those mountains, and also draining our Gods of their power. My father has sent us on a mission to destroy him and his army."

"A servant of Morgoth?" Grimbeorn echoed. "Who?"

"His name is Fankil."

Grimbeorn growled. "I know of him." He pushed open the great, wooden door to Beorn's house, and let them enter. "You are welcome here for a few days, though I must ask that you leave when I do."

"Going somewhere?" Ira asked with a smile.

"I am heading North, to the home of several of my kind."

"I thought Beorn was the last skin-changer...?" Ira frowned at him.

Grimbeorn chuckled. "He was. Those living in the mountains are all my brothers and sisters."

"How many are you?"

"Nine," he replied. Then, slowly, he added, "To my knowledge."

"You mean to say Beorn could have had _more_ children?"

"No," Grimbeorn said gruffly, "I am saying some of my siblings may not be alive anymore. We are hardly young, Miss Ira, and we live only as long as mortal men." Then, he smiled. "There is food waiting in the pantry. Help yourselves to whatever you want."

"Best news I've heard all week," Dwin grumbled.

...

"None of us should wander alone." The voice startled Frodo from his thoughts, but also caused dread to settle in his mind. "You least of all; so much depends on you." He remained silent, staring warily at the Gondorian man. Boromir frowned. "Frodo?" He sighed. "I know why you seek solitude," he said. "You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths that we might take."

Frodo tried to move away, only to find Boromir was following him with his body, never letting the hobbit fall from view. "I know what you would say," he told the man. "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart."

"Warning?" Frodo almost winced - he had gone too far. Boromir's voice held insult and anger. "Against what?" Frodo backed away again, but still he was followed. "We are all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us, to destroy what hope we have... Don't you see, it's madness!"

"There is no other way!"

"I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" Frodo jolted when the wood Boromir carried clattered to the ground. He was scared now. He couldn't fight Boromir; the man was too strong. Boromir held out a hand, pleading, "If you would but lend me the Ring-"

"No!"

"Why do you recoil?" Boromir challenged, voice harder and colder now. "I am no thief."

"You are not yourself," said Frodo, trying in vain to make the Gondorian see the Ring had taken him, however temporarily. He was dangerous like this.

"What chance do you think you have?" Boromir spat. "They will find you. They will take the Ring." His voice rose to a shout. "And you will beg for death before the end!"

Frodo turned away, hurrying back up through the forest, heart hammering in his chest. Every voice in his head was screaming at him to _RUN!_

"You fool!" Boromir hissed. Frodo turned back, only to see Boromir bearing down on him. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance! It could have been mine!" Frodo suddenly felt himself tumbling onto the floor, the heavy weight of the man pinning him down as his hands fought of Boromir's, desperate to keep the Ring from escaping his grasp. "It should be mine! Give it to me!"

"No!"

In his panic, Frodo slipped on the Ring, using his invisibility to find a weakness in the man's defence. A solid kick in the stomach gave him the chance to scramble away. Boromir's voice met his ears as if through water. "I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death, and to the death of us all! Curse you! Curse you and all the Halflings!"

Frodo darted up some stone steps, hearing Boromir's cries turning from angry to fearful and pleading, but he pushed them from his mind. He could no longer rely on the loyalty of his friends, as much as it pained him to admit it to himself.

Frodo suddenly found himself climbing up onto the Seat of Seeing atop Amon Hen. He looked cautiously over the stone seat and to his horror saw the Dark Tower from afar. The image swept towards him until the burning Eye of Sauron was staring back, harsh words in the evil language filling his mind. In an attempt to remove the Ring, Frodo felt his feet slip out from underneath him, and he fell off the Seat of Seeing, landing painfully on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Breathless, the little hobbit sat up.

"Frodo?"

Frodo jumped and spun around to see Aragorn approaching. "It has taken Boromir," he told the Ranger.

"Where is the Ring?"

Fear struck him again, and Frodo scrambled away. "Stay away," he cried. He was relieved to see that Aragorn had stopped trying to get closer to him.

"Frodo," Aragorn said softly," I swore to protect you."

"Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo asked, standing up. Slowly, he opened his palm, revealing the gold Ring of Power. "Would you destroy it?"

Aragorn stepped close and knelt before Frodo, closing his hand and pushing it gently against his chest. Frodo felt relief fill him. Not all was lost just yet. But he couldn't stay. Never could he stay. It would be too much of a risk. "I would have gone with you to the end," Aragorn told him firmly. "Into the very fires of Mordor."

"I know," the hobbit answered. "Look after the others. Especially Sam; he will not understand."

Aragorn suddenly sprung to his feet, eyes on Sting. "Go, Frodo!" He drew his sword. "Run!" Frodo hesitated, not wanting to depart in this way. "Run!"

Nodding, Frodo turned away and fled.

...

"No."

"Dwin, stop be a stubborn ass and just get on the damn pony."

"I refuse."

"What is your problem with her? She's harmless!"

"That's exactly my problem with her!" The dwarf said, indignant. "I can't stand horses, or ponies."

"What's the alternative?"

"A mountain goat."

Ira huffed. "Well, we don't have one of those, so just get on the damn pony, or I'll put you on it myself." She was sat atop Shadowmere, who had appeared at Beorn's - now Grimbeorn's, she supposed - house on their second day there, prompting the decision to start riding immediately. Grimbeorn had given Dwin and Alduin a steed each, saying that they were under no obligation to return he beasts, though he would appreciate it if they did. Alduin was scouting ahead, but Dwin seemed adamant to walk.

Grumbling, the dwarf finally swung himself onto the worn, leather saddle. His pony shuffled her feet, but didn't protest, despite not seeming to like the dwarf very much. Probably due to his obvious contempt towards her. "The moment we get to Erebor, she's going home," he grumbled.

"Last person I heard say that ended up keeping their horse until it died," Ira informed him with a grin. "In the meantime, you might as well give her a name."

Dwin thought for a long moment, before saying decisively, "Kaurigi."

"Is that Khuzdul?"

"It's derived from it, yes."

"What does it mean?"

"That is a secret I shall never share."

Ira shrugged. "Suit yourself." She then squeezed her heels together, and Shadowmere started off at a trot. Kaurigi and Dwin followed a few seconds after.

"Shouldn't we wait for Alduin?"

"He'll catch up," answered Ira, without looking back. "It's a three day walk to Mirkwood," she informed him. "I want to be there by nightfall." She then kicked Shadowmere into a gallop, and the two of them raced forwards.

* * *

**There you go! Fast update! Hopefully I should be able to post another this weekend as well.]**

**Until then, my friends! (Hey, that kinda rhymes!)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I only own Eleniel, Ghardaz and Ira. Dwin belongs to Mac Gustah. The rest belong to Tolkien or Bethesda :)**

**A/N: Sorry for a lack of update during the weekend, but we've been busy here since we're having a lot of work done on the house. I've spent the last few days making lots of cups of tea for the guys putting scaffolding up around our house (although I have done some socialising recently (which NEVER happens)). Also, my uncle and aunt are coming here from Australia for the first time in eight years(ish) next week so updates for the next two weeks will be sparse to non-existent. Sorry, but hopefully it'll be worth the wait when I come back.**

**Big thanks to: mareed0389, sethprower, Theshadowspartan117 and Grond99 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**gabiey: It's alright; life sneaks up and pinches you on the butt all the time... *ahem* Anyway, thanks for the review. it was nice hearing from you again, and I'm pleased to hear you're still enjoying it :)**

**Mac Gustah: I like how you managed to squeeze in a little Medieval Talk at the end there XD And I get the joke now -_- (nice 'sound effects' by the way). **

**BlueIndigoSea56: Well, I tried :)**

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**Chapter 21:**

Terror rushed through every cell in Eleniel's body as she rushed to meet the sound of Boromir's horn. He was in trouble. There could be no other reason for him alerting them.

Even as she tried to fight her way towards her friend, more uruks surrounded her, slowing her progress. Already she had received several scratches from stray arrows or crude blades, and the continuous onslaught of enemies was doing her no favours. Especially when she was fighting a dozen by herself. As a Princess of Erebor, Eleniel had spent her whole life being trained by the best, and yet even she would admit she was not as skilled as many of her companions. Her skills lay in archery - fighting this close combat was a weakness.

Suddenly she wasn't alone - Legolas had joined her, a flurry of green and white-gold as he whipped around with his dual daggers. The uruks didn't stand a chance now, and Eleniel was grateful for the help; she wasn't sure how much longer she would have lasted on her own. There was a brief second of pause, before Legolas grabbed hold of Eleniel's hand and dragged her forward, focusing her attention on her current task: getting to Boromir.

The two ran into Gimli on the way, Legolas swiftly despatching an uruk who had snuck up behind the dwarf, before the three continued running.

Heart in mouth, Eleniel rounded the final corner. She stopped in her tracks. Boromir lay on the ground with three arrows in his body, Aragorn crouched over him as the life left the body of the Gondorian man.

"Where is everyone?" she asked weakly when Aragorn finally stood to face them.

"Merry and Pippin were taken," Aragorn informed them. "Frodo has gone on ahead, and Sam and Ghardaz... I don't know about those."

"Sam will have gone to find Frodo," Gimli said with utter surety.

"And the orc?" Legolas questioned, with no small amount of contempt. Eleniel didn't understand why Legolas seemed to dislike Ghardaz so much, but didn't question it. It wasn't her business, after all.

"He's almost as unpredictable as my godmother," Eleniel said dryly, and Gimli smirked at her. "He could be just about anywhere."

"Or," a gruff voice said, "he could be right behind you."

Eleniel grinned. "Nice of you to show up."

"Where've you been?" Aragorn asked him.

"Helping the halflings with the boats. They're sailing across the river as we speak."

"You let them go?!" Legolas demanded angrily.

"Our paths are no longer the same," the orc replied emotionlessly. "We have another duty now."

"He's right," said Aragorn, eyes moving momentarily back to Boromir's body. "Merry and Pippin won't long survive in the hands of those uruks."

"They must be needed for something if they were not immediately killed," Gimli said wisely.

They all nodded in agreement. "We should give him a send-off," Eleniel said, eyes on Boromir.

"We have no time for a burial-"

"That's not what I meant," cut in the girl. "We can send him on one of the boats down the Anduin."

"Aye," Gimli said with a grunt of agreement. "It is a warrior's burial. He deserves that much at least."

Aragorn sighed, but then nodded his agreement. "Come," he said to them, "we mustn't delay."

...

Mirkwood was just as unpleasant as Ira remembered it to be. Although thankfully, with Sauron's presence in Mordor, rather than the fortress of Dol Guldur, the dark magic of illusion was noticeably absent. The trio of riders spent many hours without conversation, following the elven path in a single file, with Ira at the front and Dwin at the back (still occasionally letting out small complaints about his lack of mountain goat).

Just a few hours in, they were met by a party of Mirkwood elves, who reacted to them in much the same way as they have almost eight decades before. Dozens of arrows were directed at them, and they were surrounded. Dwin let out a growl and prepared to draw his axe, but Ira snapped at him to stop.

The dragoness then turned to face a familiar head of red hair. "Tauriel," she said, bowing her head. "What in Talos' name are _you_ doing here? Why aren't you back at the mountain?"

"_Vainë carma, (Sheathe weapons,)_" Tauriel instructed her soldiers, before she spoke again to Ira. "_Man khĭncárat? (What are you doing here?)_"

"We are heading for Erebor," Ira informed her, using the common tongue for the benefit of her travelling companions. "And I would ask the same of you."

Tauriel gave her a weak smile. "The Greenwood is under constant attack from Sauron's forces. He is trying to reclaim Dol Guldur."

"And Kili let you go?"

"He understands that this was my first home."

Ira hummed. "I can't imagine Erebor is free from assault, either."

Tauriel let out a long sigh. "No, it is not. But it is better suited for defending from attacks."

Ira glanced back to see Dwin pulling a very grumpy face, while Alduin just sat calmly on the back of his horse. "Since we are heading for the mountain ourselves, is there anything you wish us to say to anyone there?"

Tauriel shook her head. "Nothing, for I have frequent correspondence with them." She paused, pursing her lips. "How is Eleniel?"

"Well, last time I saw her. She and many others have gone down the Great River on the Ring quest. Alduin and I have our own duties in the Iron Hills."

"What could possibly draw you there?"

Ira smiled wanly. "I'll explain on the journey East, if you'll accompany us."

...

Taking their sharp axes, the dwarf and orc of the Fellowship began to cut several branches. These they lashed together with bowstrings, and spread their cloaks upon the frame. Upon this rough bier they carried the body of their fallen companion to the shore, together with such trophies of his last battle that they chose to send him forth with. It was only a short way, but it was no easy task for even so many arms, as Boromir was both tall and strong.

While the mightiest of their remaining numbers gently lowered Boromir to the ground, Eleniel and Gimli moved forward to empty one of the elvish boats of its burdens, leaving space for their friend. Eleniel lifted then her head, and with sorrowful eyes she watched two hobbits climb up a steep hill on the other bank.

"It would appear Frodo and Sam have reached the other side of the River," she said quietly, though her voice carried far in the mourning silence that hung over them like a blanket. "I wish them a fruitful journey, though I have no doubt it will be wrought with danger and strife."

"Hobbits are remarkable creatures," Gimli reassured her gently. "Their path is no longer aligned with yours, Princess. You must try not to think of them, else you will only worry."

"I know," she said softly. "And yet I know my mind will stray to those two little hobbits often, for they are alone in the Wild, with little more than their wits and small size to keep them from harm."

Gimli placed a hand on her shoulder. "They will be fine," he reasserted with a gruff smile.

The two moved aside for Ghardaz, Aragorn and Legolas to lay Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him away. The grey hood and elven cloak they folded and placed beneath his head. They combed his hair and arrayed it upon his shoulder. The golden belt of Lórien gleamed about his waist. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn of Minas Tirith and his sword; beneath his feet they set the swords of his enemies, so that all may know he fell in battle and glory.

Sorrowfully they cast the funeral boat along the River: there Boromir lay, restful, peaceful, gliding along the surface of the flowing water. The stream took him while they stood on the shore and watched, each mind filled with a new burden of loss. He floated further away, his boat slowly departing, waning to a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished, falling over the edge of Rauros. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in the after-days it long was said that the elven boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars.

...

"The King will want to see you," Tauriel said after Dwin and Ira had explained their tales to this point, Alduin content to remain locked in a stony silence; in the last few days he had spoken few words, and he made no attempt to create or join in with conversation. His mind was far away to the North and the East, in the hills of Dain Ironfoot, where the enemy of his family lay hidden. A sense of foreboding had gathered in his mind, and he could not stop himself fearing that their arrival in the mountains was expected by those that dwelled there. If they failed in their mission, the Eyra would be forever weakening, until they became a mere speck of essence. They would become legends; memories of the once great gods and goddesses they had been, but no more than that. They would fall into tales and songs, and then they would be forgotten by most.

"I mean no offence, but it will have to be a short visit," Ira informed the red haired elleth. "The sooner our task is completed, the better. That way we can return to our companions in the South."

Tauriel nodded understandingly. "It is merely procedure," she explained. "Thranduil has ordered that everyone, friend or foe, be brought before him alive before being allowed passage out of his lands. Especially if coming from the Southern end of the forest."

Ira sent a glance behind her at Dwin, seeing the dwarf had somewhat shrunken into himself. The nearness of so many elves was clearly making him uncomfortable, and Alduin had no doubt he would be loudly voicing his relief when they finally exited the Greenwood. "Hopefully he will not hinder us due to a new travelling companion," Ira said quietly, and while Alduin was sure Dwin could not hear her, he could, as his senses were sharper than those of most.

"Thranduil and Fili have a peaceful, if not slightly uneasy alliance," Tauriel reminded them. "Assure him that Dwin is of Erebor, and he should not cause any problems."

Ira chuckled. "If I'm being honest here," he said with a sly grin back at Alduin, who raised an eyebrow at her, "it's not Thranduil that worries me most."

"Then I suggest _you_ be the one to do the talking," Alduin replied back with a grin. "The last time I was left alone in a room with him (more or less) I ended up knocking two of his guards unconscious."

"I know," Ira responded with a grin. "You've both told me."

"I'm sure his words on the matter were quite complimentary," Alduin stated with a dry, sarcastic tone.

Ira snorted in amusement. "Perhaps not, but I could tell he was both intrigued and slightly fearful of the Thu'um. You can be assured you made a... lasting impression."

"I'm thrilled," he replied, sarcasm even thicker in his voice now.

From ahead of him Alduin heard Dwin mutter a few words under his breath (though he couldn't decipher them), receiving angered and slightly hostile glares from the surrounding elves. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, stating, "It was a joke, I swear!" while Ira threw her head back in laughter.

* * *

**Yeah, Dwin's a bit of a 'speak before think' person.**

**Until next time my lovelies, and again, apologies for the late update.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Dislcaimer: I only own the usual. The rest belong to Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: Not sure how I managed to cough this one up, but it formed far quicker than I thought it would. So, I thought I'd update it. :)**

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**Chapter 22:**

Dusk deepened. Mist lay behind them among the trees below, and brooded on the pale margins of the Anduin, but the sky was clear. Stars came out. The waxing moon was riding in the West, and the shadows of the rocks were black. They had come to the feet of stony hills, and their pace was slower, for the trail was no longer easy to follow. Here the highlands of the Emyn Muil ran from North to South in two long tumbled ridges. The western side of each ridge was steep and difficult, but the Eastward slopes were gentler, furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines. All night the five companions scrambled in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side.

There in the still cool hour before dawn they rested for a brief space. They had been running for several hours already, and yet in their desperation and determination they did not yet feel fatigue in abundance. The moon had long gone down before them, the stars glittered above them; the first light of day had not yet come over the dark hills behind. For the moment Aragorn was at a loss: the orc-trail had descended into the valley, but there it had vanished from sight.

"Which way would they turn, do you think?" Asked Legolas. "Northward to take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as you guess? Or southward to strike the Entwash?"

"They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at,'' said Aragorn. "And unless there is much amiss in Rohan and the power of Saruman is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way that they can find over the fields of the Rohirrim. Let us search Northwards."

"We should be able to find their tracks come morning," Ghardaz said, frowning as he looked over the sparse land before their eyes. "We have lost the light, and I do not wish to run the risk of losing their trail, and therefore more time."

"We have no time to wait for morning," Legolas said sharply. "The orcs are great runners of distance, and we are already many hours behind."

"He's right," Eleniel and Aragorn said together, and with that small conversation done they began to move again.

The dale ran like a stony trough between the ridged hills, and a trickling stream flowed among the boulders at the bottom. A cliff frowned upon their right; to their left rose grey slopes, dim and shadowy in the late night. They went on for a mile or more Northwards. Aragorn was searching, bent towards the ground, among the folds and gullies leading up into the western ridge. Legolas was some way ahead, with Gimli, Ghardaz and Eleniel trailing behind. Suddenly the elf gave a cry and the others came running towards him.

"We have already overtaken some of those that we are hunting," he said. "Look!" He pointed, and they saw that what they had at first taken to be boulders lying at the foot of the slope were huddled bodies. Five dead orcs lay there. They had been hewn with many cruel strokes, and two had been beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark blood.

"Here is another riddle!" Said Gimli. "But it needs the light of day and for that we cannot wait."

"Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful," said Legolas. "Enemies of the orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in these hills?"

"No," said Aragorn. "The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far from Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of men were hunting here for reasons that we do not know. Yet I think not."

"What do you think?" Gimli asked him.

But it was not the Ranger who answer. "A fight probably broke out amongst them," Ghardaz said. "There were more than one type of orc there, and even if they were all from the same place they do not get along easily."

Aragorn searched the ground in a wide circle, but no other traces of the fight could be found. They went on. Already the Eastward sky was turning pale; the stars were fading, and a grey light was slowly growing. A little further North they came to a fold in which a tiny stream, falling and winding, had cut a stony path down into the valley. In it some bushes grew, and there were patches of grass upon its sides.

"At last!" Aragorn cried in relief. "Here are the tracks that we seek! Up this water-channel: this is the way that the orcs went after their debate."

Swiftly now the pursuers turned and followed the new path. As if fresh from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone. At last they reached the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their hair and stirred their cloaks: the chill wind of dawn.

"Rohan," Aragorn proclaimed. "Home of the Horse-Lords." Then, his eyes narrowed, as if concentrating on something only he could feel. "There is something strange at work here," he told them. "Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."

Legolas leapt past him and ascended to a taller point on the rocks. "The uruks have turned North-West," he informed them. Then his eyes widened in alarm. "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

"Saruman," Aragorn growled.

"We must move swiftly if we are to catch them before they get too close to Saruman," Eleniel said. "Come on!"

...

Ira had to admit that her second time entering the halls of Thranduil was immensely preferable to the first (admittedly she had been unconscious then, but that was beside the point). Immediately she, Alduin and Dwin had been led up the winding paths to Thranduil's throne room. They reached it before him, and were stood waiting for a few minutes.

Ira stepped closer to her husband and spoke lowly to him. "We don't have much time left. We've barely gotten within several hundred miles of the place and I can already feel a heaviness to the air. I think Fankil is stronger than we gave him credit for."

"I cannot feel it," Alduin replied, equally quiet. "Either you are more perceptive than I, or your paranoia is causing you to feel things that aren't there."

"I sincerely hope for all our sakes that it is the latter," she murmured, a deep crease appearing between her brows.

At that moment Thranduil swept haughtily into the room. While before when they saw him in his halls he had been in fine clothing, he now wore silver armour, though it looked no less fine nor... _elvish_. He had his sword at his waist, and there was a prominent scratch on his right hand. "It has been many years since you two were last in my kingdom," he said dryly, stopping in front of his throne, but not moving to sit on it. "And yet again you bring a dwarf with you." He shot them an amused smirk. "This is becoming tradition."

"Forgive me for my curtness, my Lord," Ira said diplomatically, "but we came here only because it was required of us. We are, in actuality, in quite a hurry at present."

"And why would that be?"

"You are aware of our... situation with our shifting, yes?" He nodded, so Ira elaborated. "We know the cause of this loss of power, and who is weakening our Gods. With every second that passes he grows stronger, and they weaker. While the Aedra have enough strength at the moment to allow us one last shift of form, they may not do by the time we reach the Iron Hills."

"And achieving your quest will allow you access to your other bodies?"

"It should do, yes. The Aedra will have their power returned to them, and it is through them that we can change."

Thranduil nodded gravely. "Then you may leave immediately. I will warn you, however, that there have been many orc attacks on both this forest and the mountain. Expect to encounter at least one pack on your journey North."

Ira bowed her head in thanks. "_Namárië, aratár. (Farewell, noble King.)_"

Thranduil's lips twitched up at the side ever-so-slightly. "_Alámenë. (Go with my blessing.)_"

...

When the sun rose above their heads, it was red and pink. Legolas frowned, pausing in his running. "A red sun rises. Blood has been spilt this night."

Eleniel's head whipped to the side at the sound of horse hooves, and just on the other side of a hill, she caught sight of a large group of horses. "Quick, out of sight!" She ushered them all behind a series of rocks just off the path, and not a moment too soon - the horses galloped past within just three seconds.

Aragorn, clearly recognising these horsemen and perceiving them to be no threat, got up and walked into view. "Riders of Rohan!" He called out to them. "What news from the Mark?"

The leader of the Rohirrim lifted his spear into the air, and all riders turned around. The five companions were quickly herded like sheep into a small circle, while the riders surrounded them. Dozens of spears were then directed at them.

After a few tense seconds, a rider pushed his way forward, clearly the leader of the group. "What business does a man, two elves, a dwarf and an orc have in the Riddermark?" An impatient man he seemed to be, for barely a second had passed before he demanded, "Speak quickly!"

"Give me y-"

Eleniel, sensing where _that_ was going, smacked Gimli on the back of his head, giving him a sharp glare. "Forgive him," she said quickly while the man dismounted. "He doesn't sense when the best times to talk are. I am Eleniel of Erebor, daughter of Kili, and this is Gimli, son of Gloin. These with us are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood, and Ghardaz of Skyrim. I assure you we are no enemies of yours; in fact Theoden has a strong alliance with my uncle."

"Your uncle being?" He asked sharply.

"King Fili of Erebor."

The rider raised an eyebrow. "What is such a strange company doing in Rohan?"

"We track a party of uruk-hai Westward across the plain," Aragorn said, drawing the rider's eyes back to him. "They have taken two of our friends captive."

There was a beat of silence, then, "The uruks are destroyed."

"_What?!_" Eleniel hissed in horror.

"But there were two hobbits!" Gimli cried. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

At the rider's confused look, Aragorn explained. "They would be small - only children to your eyes."

The rider sighed. "We left none alive."

"Dead?" Gimli breathed in despair.

The rider tilted his head. "I am sorry." He whistled. "Arod! Hasufel!" Two horses stepped forward. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." He then mounted his horse. "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope; it has forsaken these lands."

"Wait!" Eleniel called. "What is your name?"

"Eomer, son of Eomund, Princess."

"Thank you for your help, Eomer." Eleniel smiled sadly at him. "And I am sorry for what fate has decided for you to bear. But I have a feeling Rohan is in a greater peril than we yet know, so I would recommend you stay close to Edoras for a while. You never know when you might be needed."

"I have been banished from the kingdom," he reminded her. "To go any closer to the capital would be an act of treason. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King."

"My great-uncle experienced something similar. There is hope for the King," Eleniel told him quietly, so only his ears (and Legolas') could hear her. "Please, heed my advice."

Eomer nodded. "I will, Princess."

Aragorn moved to Eleniel and muttered in his ear. "I fear your words hold more truth than we first thought. Can I ask that you remain with these men?"

"But the Fellowship-"

"Is broken already," he cut in. "Please, Eleniel. We have only enough horses to carry four of us, and even that is a stretch."

Eleniel sighed, but acquiesced. She turned back to find Eomer watching her in curiosity. "I don't suppose you have a spare seat?" She asked him. "It would seem my road with my companions ends here, at least for a time."

Eomer hesitated, before offering her a hand. Eleniel grasped it firmly and seated herself awkwardly behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Eomer then called to his men. "We ride North!" The riders departed, leaving four companions with two horses and less hope than before. Eleniel glanced back one last time, upset but resolute, and sent them one last wave.

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**Yup. Okay. Ever since writing the line 'They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!' I've had that bloody song in my head. Curse whoever decided to create it.**

**Until next time!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Mac Gustah owns Dwin.**

**A/N: I'M NOT DEAD! I know it's been a really long time, and I'm sorry, but with all the building work going on (and those people drink A LOT of coffee) and the visit of my uncle and aunt, I've not had a chance to write or update this. but, I've finally gotten around to it. Thanks for being patient. Xxx**

**Big thanks to: FairyTaleShinigami, MySqurl, archangelschaos, Ninja4hir3, Bluemane, nitro740, Destroyer Sev, akatosh117demon, yuginegi, snowbeard3, Verona-mira and Rex Resede90 for following/favouriting. You guys are amazeballs! (Sorry, that'll be my English teacher rubbing off on me)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: Okay, dude, I love you and all, but REALLY!? NOT HELPING! Stupid song -_-**

**Mac Gustah: Nice to see you again, and thankfully the hatted cats stayed away from me. Probably because MY cat is a killer. I mean, my neighbour's dogs are terrified of her. And there are two of them. Anyway... :)**

**silverhawk88: Thanks for letting me know, and I'm pleased to say I have changed it! But I'm glad you're liking the story.**

**gabiey: I'm back! And thanks for the review; it was bootiful!**

**...**

**...**

**...**

**Okay, I'm never doing that again.**

**Brazilian jaguar: NOW! Thankfully, it wasn't too long after you asked ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 23:**

"What did he mean when he was talking about your other bodies?" Dwin asked them while they were escorted to the edge of Mirkwood by two guards. "It's not the first time it's been mentioned, and yet I still don't understand why."

"Alduin and I are shape-shifters," Ira provided vaguely, clearly wary of her surroundings. Alduin thought the same - something about the quietness of the place set his senses on edge. "Or at least we were, before our Gods lost their power and our transformations stopped, leaving us in our weaker bodies."

"And what is your other body?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said.

Dwin smirked. "Try me."

"Dragon."

A blink was the only response Ira received, followed by a clearly disbelieving snort. "Right."

"You think she's joking?" Alduin asked coldly from ahead.

Dwin seemed impervious to his bad mood, and just shrugged. "Well, it does seem a little far fetched."

"Tell you what," Ira said irritably, "you go on believing that and then try not to faint when we show up at your door as firedrakes."

"Alright, alright, don't get your tail in a knot."

Alduin glanced back at Ira, who shot him a dark look. He smirked slightly, though it faded quickly when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He pulled his horse to a stop suddenly, Shadowmere and Kaurigi copying instantly, and their elven escorts paused as well. "What?" Ira asked.

"Oh, come on, can't y-"

Alduin and Ira simultaneously shushed the chatty dwarf, hands falling instantly onto the hilts of their swords. Trees and bushes all around them began to tremble and shake, and suddenly a pack of orcs at least thirty strong surrounded the three of them and their two guards.

Ira sighed dramatically, and Alduin could sense her cheeky side coming to the fore, as it often seemed to do before a fight. "We just cannot catch a break, can we?"

"Thirty-two orcs, five of us," Dwin said contemplatively. "I reckon no more than five minutes."

Alduin couldn't stop himself rolling his eyes. "What is it with dwarves and bets?" He asked himself rhetorically, and he heard Ira chuckle in response to his words. In one smooth motion, he, the dwarf and his wife dismounted their horses and drew their weapons.

"You can't deny it's infectious, though," Ira said with a grin. She turned to Dwin. "Twenty gold says I can kill more than you."

Dwin barked out a laugh. "That sounds acceptable. May the best dwarf win."

They waited, but the orcs made no move to attack. Instead, they just stood around them, watching with weapons drawn. Ira shrugged. "Well, _someone_ has to make the first move."

She lunged forward, striking down an orc before it had the chance to raise its crude sword on defence of its life. Dwin let out a loud bark of laughter, before he, Alduin, and their two elven guards also plunged into battle. The orcs responded instantly, but it was clear few of them had any training whatsoever.

Alduin could feel the hilt of his sword becoming slippery due to its thorough coating of black blood, and every few seconds (and simultaneously every few orcs) he had to readjust his grip on it to make sure it wouldn't fly out of his grasp. He ignored everyone else around him. In that moment, it was just him, and his opponent. One of the largest orcs in the group bared its teeth at him, and Alduin snarled back, feeling his muscles tense in preparation of the oncoming attack.

The orc lunged forward, blade raised high above its head. Alduin lifted his daedric blade to block the attack, using his spare hand to grab hold of the orc's neck. A foul gurgle left its throat, and Alduin squeezed harder. In that instant, the rush of power that flowed through him both startled and pleased him. He squeezed harder. He was in control. Another squeeze. He was the strong one, the powerful one, the _dominant_ one. The orc was becoming weak from oxygen loss. Alduin was the master of a mighty race. He was the leader. The orc fell limp from Alduin's hand, the creature's blood leaving streaks along his pale skin.

"Alduin."

The voice of his wife brought him back to the present, and the cloud that had covered his mind was swept away. He looked around, seeing they were surrounded completely by orc bodies. Just to give his mind something to do to prevent him from falling into old thoughts again, he counted the orcs.

_Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one..._

"One of the orcs escaped."

"What?!"

This time, they all counted. Thirty-one.

Ira turned to the elves. "You two find the straggler and dispose of him. We'll keep going alone."

"But, my lady-"

"We know where we're going. We can't let that orc go. Since they took so long to attack, I assume they were here for more than just the purpose of battling us." Still the elves hesitated. "Go!"

With curt nods, the two of them disappeared swiftly into the trees. Dwin, Ira and Alduin quickly moved to their mounts and swung into the saddles. "We must make sure we are far from here, just in case another pack is not too far behind," Dwin said, all sense of his joking manner gone.

Ira nodded and began leading the way at a trot, expertly manoeuvring Shadowmere around the trees. Once the air had begun to lighten, she grinned and turned back to Dwin. "I killed nine. And you?"

The dwarf suddenly looked smug. "Twelve."

"... Dammit!"

...

As the four rode forward, the day was overcast. Low grey clouds came over the world. A mist shrouded the sun. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed, slowly darkening as the sun went West. They saw no sign of any trail to right or left, but here and there they passed single orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey-feathered arrows sticking in back or throat

At last as the afternoon was waning they came to the eaves of the forest, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside it was a great pile of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and darts and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great goblin head; upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. Further away, not far from the river, where it came streaming out from the edge of the wood, there was a mound. It was newly raised: the raw earth was covered with fresh-cut turves: about it were planted fifteen spears.

Aragorn and his companions searched far and wide about the field of battle, but the light faded, and evening soon drew down, dim and misty. By nightfall they had discovered no trace of Merry and Pippin.

"We can do no more," said Gimli sadly. "We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir on the Great River, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the orcs'. It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it; and hard too for the old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming."

"But Gandalf was not," Legolas reminded him.

"But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost," answered Gimli. "His foresight failed him."

"The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others," Aragorn told them. "There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. But I shall not depart from this place yet. In any case we must here await the morning-light."

And so they lay down on the ground for what seemed like the first time in an age. But they were not without worry or caution, and the night passed slowly. Legolas followed Aragorn, and Gimli followed Legolas, and Ghardaz followed after, and their watches wore away.

But nothing happened.

...

"So, Master Eomer, where is it you intend to go? I notice that we are no longer travelling North." Eleniel was sat by Eomer's side at the camp, along with the hundred or so other riders. They were chatting amiably, eating their hearty stew with smiles on their faces that could never quite reach their eyes.

"No, that was just a way to avoid having to go through the rocky plains," the Third-Marshall replied with a small smile. "There is a Rohirrim camp about two days' ride from here, where some more of our men are staying. We may be banished from Edoras, my lady, but we still patrol the lands."

"And it seems you're doing a fine job," the girl replied with a smirk. "Certainly, those orcs can't disagree." She then frowned, a sombre look befalling her young face. "But why were you banished in the first place? I understand that King Theoden is not himself, but surely he would not think to _banish_ so many from his city...?"

Eomer sighed heavily. "There is a voice in his ear that persuades him to do things." He grimaced. "Grima, son of Galmod. Wormtongue, as the people of the Mark have come to know him. He is an advisor to the King, and while I doubt he is solely responsible, I believe he has _something_ to do with the poisoning of my uncle's mind."

"Wait, wait, wait... Uncle? King Theoden is your uncle?"

Eomer quirked an eyebrow. "Is it so surprising?"

Eleniel huffed. "It's bad enough that he banished a loyal soldier from the capital, but to banish his own _nephew?!_ It's... it's just so horribly _wrong_."

Chuckling slightly, Eomer patted her knee gently. "Everything will sort itself out." Slowly, Eleniel nodded, before sighing and placing her head in her hands. Eomer frowned. "Are you alright, my lady?"

"I just miss home," she replied honestly, voice small and timid. "I used to go out hunting at least three times a week, just to get out of the mountain, but now I've been gone for so long I really miss it."

"Your home is the place you always want to leave when you're there, but when you are far away, you want nothing more than to turn around and go back," Eomer agreed with a sad look to his eyes. "I should have expected my banishment - Grima was convincing the King to exile many of his best men - but I didn't realise it was coming so soon. I have a sister waiting for me, and now she's been left alone with that _snake_."

Eleniel placed her hand over his, and Eomer forced himself to calm down, head bowed. "My younger brother is still in Erebor." Eomer lifted his head, clearly listening. "He's close enough to my age for there to be no significant difference, but there's always a yearning in my heart to see him, just so I can reassure myself that he's safe and well. Of course, in times as dark as these, that's difficult, but I still worry for him. And mother and father, too."

"Who are your parents?"

"But you already know that."

"I know the name of your father, daughter of Kili, and your uncle. But not your mother."

Eleniel chuckled, but acquiesced to his request. "My father and uncle are both nephews of Thorin Oakenshield. He is the younger of the two, by five years. My mother is called Tauriel, and she was the Captain of the Mirkwood guard during the time of the journey to Erebor." She smiled fondly. "You'd never believe it, but the whole thing started after she locked him in a cell."

"I suppose in that situation it gave them time to get to know one another."

Eleniel shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Anyway, Tauriel was banished from Mirkwood for disobeying the King, and Fili offered her a place in his own guard, knowing of her skill and previous experience. After that, one thing led to another, and then they got married." Eleniel grinned. "I still remember the first time they introduced me, my brother and my cousin to Ira, you know. The first thing she asked me for was a hug."

"Ira?" Eomer frowned, the name ringing a bell in the back of his mind.

"She's my godmother. But you probably know her as the Dragonborn of Skyrim."

* * *

**Yep, because that conversation went EVERYWHERE!**

**Anyways, until next time (and hopefully it won't take as long!)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Mac Gustah owns Dwin and (mentioned) Fundin.**

**A/N: Alright, so there's some major Alduin/Ira fluff in this chapter. And they might be a bit OOC. Ah well. And another one of Dwin's ridiculous stories, which explains his dislike of horses and ponies. **

**Big thanks to: Chitsuki-Tokiwa and Ratatosk the Devine Demon**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: You have my thanks, Sir Lord Mac Gustah, for the warning against potatoes with legs, however I must offer such a warning back to yourself; potatoes with legs are dangerous creatures indeed, but I have seen with mine own eyes that potatoes with sunglasses also carry those deadly hundguns. (If you get the reference, that's great. If not, watch the ASDF movie 2). Anyways... ;)**

**BlueIndigoSea56: SORRY! This one is longer, though. And thanks for the compliment, it really means a lot to hear.**

**gabiey: Ici vous allez, mon ami!**

**MorningStar1017: Hey there! I'm really glad to hear about Ira/Alduin. I always liked the idea of a dragon/dragonborn thing, because I love irony. I mean, she's a bitch, but you love her anyway XD**

* * *

**Chapter 24:**

It was amazing how much Laketown had changed in eighty years. The old, crumbling houses had been repaired or replaced, the canals were expanded and increased in number with the large number of boats travelling through, the town itself had grown to be about double its original size.

It was slightly disheartening to know that everyone they had met before would likely be dead by this point, unless by some miracle they lived to be over eighty or ninety.

That being said, the new Master of Laketown recognised them (well, Alduin and Ira) from old records and pictures of the company of Thorin Oakenshield that had been provided by Ori a couple years after Erebor was made mostly functional again, and so agreed to provide them with supplies and a place to rest for the night. That being said, the three companions agreed fairly quickly they'd likely spend a lot of the night in a tavern with a tankard of alcohol constantly in front of them.

Once they had set up their two rooms, they headed down towards the tavern. Dwin was inside in an instant, laughing at Ira's comment to watch out for the wives of his bar fight opponents, while Alduin and Ira wandered aimlessly through the streets for a few moments. The people of Laketown ignored them for the most part, though when they walked more closely together, a few eyes darted their way every few seconds.

"I think I'm ready to quieten my life down for a while once this is all done," Ira commented softly as they stood on the edge of a pathway, looking out towards the towering form of the Lonely Mountain.

"You said that already in Rivendell," Alduin reminded her with a smile.

"No, but I mean it this time," the Dragonborn said. "I've spent over six hundred years doing this adventuring stuff, and I'm just... tired."

"You'll miss it when it's gone."

"I know I will. But right now, I just want a break."

Alduin quirked an eyebrow. "What, so you can settle down? Buy a house, get a job, start a family? Come on, Ira, you know that's not you."

"It was once," she answered honestly, voice quieter now. "I adopted kids. I've been a mother before. It was actually a lot of fun, although it broke my heart when they passed away. But if they were our own, they might have our blood. They might be immortal, like us."

Alduin frowned, appearing greatly startled. "Are you being serious? You _actually_ want to start a family?"

Ira shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe one day. When this is all over." She shot him a grin. "It's not like we have a lack of time. It doesn't have to be straight away, or even a century from now. We're not going anywhere any time soon."

The dragon was quiet for a long time, and Ira was worried she'd crossed some kind of line. She was about to pull him back towards the tavern that Dwin had whole-heartedly thrown himself into, when Alduin's hand slipped into her own with a tenderness she did not expect.

"Okay," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers, breath brushing against her skin. "Whenever you want."

"Are... Are you being serious?"

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Does it look like I'm joking?"

"No, but... You're a dragon! Your kind don't put any importance on having kids."

Alduin chuckled. "On the contrary, dragons think of having offspring much like dwarves do - it is such a rare occurrence that it is considered a blessing, especially if it survives past the first year."

Ira stared at him in shock for a _very_ long moment. Each second that passed on served with increasing the size of Alduin's amused smirk. "How long have you been thinking about this?" She asked accusingly, using her uncanny ability to hear the words that hid beneath his words.

Alduin shrugged. "A while."

"How. Long."

Now, the grin was wide and genuine. "Around twenty years."

"WHAT?!"

Alduin threw his head back in mirthful laughter, revelling in the look of unadulterated shock on the Dragonborn's face. When he calmed, he asked her, "Do you remember our first... joining?"

Ira blushed, but nodded her head. Then, realisation hit her. "Wait, that was supposed to make a child?"

"Not necessarily, but the thought of creating my own offspring did prompt that particularly evening."

Ira smacked him three times on the arm, doing no harm but successfully venting out some of her frustrations on him. "You bastard," she growled. "You absolute bastard!"

Alduin ducked his head and captured her lips in his, cutting off any further insults she meant to hurl his way. Ira fought at first, but when Alduin grasped her waist, she gave in and simply settled into the kiss. They stood there, mouths locked, for quite a while, surfacing only every minute or so to breathe, before starting from scratch again.

When they finally pulled apart, both were slightly breathless, and both wore grins. Alduin's was smug, while Ira's was sheepish. "Come on," Alduin muttered into her ear. "We ought to go and see if Dwin's making a fool of himself yet."

"And if he isn't, we're going to change that pretty damn quick, right?"

Alduin chuckled and nodded. "Of course."

And indeed, when they entered the tavern, Dwin was already standing on a table, belting out some drunken song that consisted of slurred words, surrounded by twelve pint tankards, another in his hand. Although he appeared to have spilt half of his drinks down his front and into his beard. At least he was enjoying himself.

"How many drinks more until he passes out, do you think? Not including the one in his hand." Ira asked as they took stools at the bar.

Alduin was quiet for a while, thinking. "Eight," he answered, before placing ten coins on the table.

Ira grinned and matched the wordless bet. "Eleven," she challenged. "And whoever loses can be the one to wake him up come morning."

"Deal."

"I know nords when I see them."

They both turned to see a khajiit stood before them, wearing leather armour with a short sword on either side of her waist. "I do not believe we have met," Ira replied pleasantly, turning away only briefly to thank the tavern owner for delivering their drinks. Alduin ordered a strong ale, while Ira settled for Skyrim-styled mead.

"Ra'dahra, my friends."

"I'm Ira, and this is my husband, Alduin." Ra'dahra's ears twitched in recognition of their names, but said nothing. "So, what brings you to Laketown?"

"I head for the mountain from the South of Gondor. Many of my people have made that their home, as it is much like the warm sands of Elsweyr."

"Was it a visit, then, or do you live there and are only visiting Erebor?"

"My home is in the South. But my brother lives still in the Lonely Mountain, and so now I go to visit him instead."

"These are dangerous times to be travelling," Alduin said, drinking from his tankard almost immediately afterward.

Ra'dahra shrugged it off. "I have been trained to fight. And no one will stand in the way of me and my brother."

"I'll toast to that," Ira said with a grin, raising her tankard and then gulping down at least half the liquid. Alduin rolled his eyes at her antics, and Ra'dahra seemed equally amused by it, before she excused herself and went to sit at what they assumed was her own table. "Oh, boy," Ira groaned, looking towards Dwin, who had, indeed, just passed out. "Count the tankards around him. He'd already drunk thirteen before."

Alduin groaned in annoyance, but got up and began counting through the tankards on the table. Judging by his expression, it was not good news for him. "There are twenty-three in total."

"So my bet was closest? Ha!" Ira scooped up the twenty coins on the bar and dropped them into her coin purse. "Well, I'm part of the way back to regaining the money I lost earlier."

"By ten coins," Alduin pointed out, grinning over the rim of his cup.

"Ten is better than none," Ira retorted, before raising her tankard in invitation. "Cheers, dii lokaal."

Alduin rolled his eyes, but pressed his tankard against hers anyway. "Cheers." And then the both drowned themselves in their drinks, quickly falling into the pleasant stupor of drunkenness, and then stumbling into their room very early in the morning. Collapsing onto their bed, they were both asleep before they could get changed out of their clothes.

...

Morning brought with it the first rays of hope they had seen for many days. Ghardaz had unwittingly stumbled across a cut piece of rope, which turned out to be the evidence they needed to work out where Merry and Pippin had disappeared to. Their belts had been found in the burning pile, but there was no sign of any hobbit bones or bodies.

"The battle did not claim their lives, it would seem," Ghardaz stated, looking at the ominous trees above their heads. "Where else could they have gone but into the forest during such a fight?"

"Fangorn Forest is a dangerous place, and there are many foes in there that could claim their lives," Legolas stated gravely.

Ghardaz huffed. "Finding their bodies would be better than nothing," he grumbled, "for at least then we have the comfort of knowing what happened to them. Bad news is better than no news at all."

"While they have a path ahead of them, so do we," Aragorn agreed. "Take only what you need; we go into the trees."

"And what hope have we of ever returning?" Gimli asked grumpily.

"If the trees detect no ill intent, they will leave us be," Legolas replied vaguely. "So you best keep your axe to yourself. These trees are no to be trifled with."

"What can they do?"

"Fangorn Forest is not feared for no reason," Aragorn responded from his position by Hasufel. "These trees, if given enough reason, can move. So do not give them reason to wish death upon you. Heed Legolas' words and keep your weapons firmly at your side. Take them out only if threatened, and do not bear them at the trees themselves, or you may not live to see the light of another day. Come, we must hasten. With luck, we will find the hobbits within the day. It would not do to stay in the forest during the night. Who knows what manner of creatures may make themselves known to us after nightfall?"

...

Groaning due to the pain in her head, Ira nudged Alduin, who was already up and... _reading a book?!_

"How many drinks did you have last night?" She grumbled.

"No more than you," came the easy reply. "The difference is I'm more tolerant to the stuff than you are. I woke with only a slight headache, and it's gone now."

"In that case you can go wake Dwin," she mumbled into her pillow. "Erebor is still a long bloody way from here. With enough luck, we'll reach it by nightfall. But to do that, we have to leave now."

Alduin chuckled. "The inn owner left a hangover cure on your bedside table. Works a treat, I'm told, though you've been advised to hold your nose when you drink it."

"Noted."

Alduin put his book down and left the room without a hint of pain. _Bloody bastard,_ Ira thought resentfully. Her hangovers had always been pretty brutal, as her body seemed to lack the ability to burn off alcohol while sleeping. After taking a minute to give herself an encouraging pep talk, Ira sat up and downed the 'hangover cure' in one go. It tasted absolutely disgusting - she suspected that it tasted much like tar would. It was thick enough for it, too. After downing a glass of water in a vain attempt to remove the aftertaste from her mouth, Ira stumbled to her feet. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, grimacing. Her eyes were lined with purple, and her skin looked clammy. After pinning her hair up - with a larger amount of effort than expected - Ira dragged herself down the stairs for a breakfast of bacon, eggs and sausages. Dwin was up and raring to go already, having devoured half his plate of food. Alduin was eating more calmly, seemingly smug at the fact his task of waking up Dwin had proved incredibly easy due to the dwarf's lack of hangover.

Ira dropped into her seat and ate slowly, feeling the nausea tumble around her stomach as she ate. Luckily, her food stayed in her stomach.

"I hear we'll be in Erebor by sundown," Dwin commented, pushing his now empty plate from him and leaning back contentedly in his chair.

Ira nodded slowly. "If we leave within the next half hour, hopefully by mid-afternoon. You'll be able to get rid of Kaurigi soon."

Dwin smirked. "Good. I can replace her with a mountain goat."

"What is your problem with horses and ponies, anyway? I never thought to ask, but knowing you, there's some kind of stupid story behind it."

"Hey! Not all my stories are stupid!" Dwin retorted with what looked suspiciously like a pout.

"I've yet to hear one from you that _isn't_."

Dwin sighed. "My son was learning how to ride when it happened..."

"Oh, this is going to make my morning, I can just _feel_ it," Ira said with a grin, kicking her feet up onto the table in preparation.

"I am actually quite the experienced rider, despite having not ridden for close to half a century. Anyway, Fundin, my son, was getting quite good as well. I kept giving him instructions, and some nobleman's horse was in the stall directly behind me. Apparently my shouting annoyed him because he..."

"Yes...?" Ira prompted, wearing an expression of amusement.

Sighing again, Dwin admitted, "He reached out, grabbed my coat in his teeth, and flung me through the air. Mahal, I had no idea horses were so bloody strong!"

Two seconds of silence passed before Alduin and Ira both burst into laughter. Dwin grumbled for a few seconds more, before he joined in eagerly. Half of Esgaroth must have woken up due to their loud laughter, but they were too busy to care. It seemed they were set for a good, cheerful day.

* * *

**Famous last words.**

**That's all I'm gonna say.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: (I've noticed this is getting to be quite a long list, now) I own Ira, Ghardaz, Eleniel, Ruvin, Matryd and Kamir. Mac Gustah owns Dwin, Fundin and Vevina.**

**A/N: Okay, here's the weekly update. I would have updated yesterday, but it was my birthday on Friday so I was distracted by my new stuff. Not even guilty. Anyways, here's the next chapter, with some playful teasing between Ira, Alduin and Dwin.**

**Big thanks to: raddaraddaradda2, eleventhlegion, areslindragon and FandomFreak121 for following/favouriting. It really means a lot, so thanks :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Ny'Kle: Maybe...**

**Mac Gustah: I'm glad my medievalness amused you. As for how many drinks Dwin can have without collapsing, I figured I'd lower the number a bit since he'd had not a single drop of alcohol for over thirty years. That's got to affect ones immunity to the stuff. And your strange little advert-thing (I total heard an advert voice when reading it): 1 - Yes. 2 - Not yet. 3 - Maybe eventually. As for your little sidenote, I'd imagine it would depend on what form Ira was in when they babies were conceived. Haven't really thought about it; probably ought to.**

**gabiey: Well, here it is! :) x**

**snowbeard3: I'm glad to hear it, and thanks! XD**

* * *

**Chapter 25:**

**"**The Valar hate us," Dwin grumbled as they ambled through a rather dusty plain. "It's official."

Certainly, their luck had turned since the morning. The Master of Esgaroth had provided them with supplies, and they'd gotten only halfway around the lake before one of the supply bags split, emptying the food onto the ground. That was all inedible now, so they'd had to chuck it out. Then they'd been attacked by an admittedly small party of orcs, and during the following skirmish Alduin's horse had been killed. So he and Ira were forced to share a saddle on Shadowmere, much to the devil horse's obvious annoyance. It wasn't to do with the fact he had to carry more weight, but rather the fact that he had always been somewhat suspicious of the dragon-turned-human.

Now, though, the problem was less controllable - somehow, in the face of a few hours, the weather had gone from a cold winter chill to blazing heat with an intense sun on their backs which was absolutely out of place and very much unwanted.

"I doubt the Valar have a vendetta against us, Dwin," Ira mumbled, understandably irate. "It's just bad luck."

A loud squawk sounded above their heads, and they all looked up to find a large, midnight-black raven swooping towards them. With a slightly smug look, Dwin lifted an arm in invitation. The raven landed on top and looked them all critically over with its beady eyes. The raven then seemed to... garble at them. Ira and Alduin exchanged looks of confusion, but Dwin nodded his head thoughtfully.

"Can you understand him?" Ira asked. She'd heard of the raven-speakers (Fili and Kili themselves both spoke to the ravens) but she was sure it was a trait held only by those of Durin's line.

"Aye. My family have been raven-speakers for generations," Dwin said proudly. "This is Morac, son of Roäc. He told me that a messenger was sent to Erebor by the Master of Laketown. They're expecting us."

"Which means a welcoming party." Alduin sighed heavily, his breath tickling the back of Ira's ear. She chuckled. "Don't laugh; you hate them almost as much as I do."

"Ah, but this time Dwin will be there to make a fool of himself."

"You know, I'm sensing your opinion of me is not all that high," Dwin said through narrowed eyes.

Ira shrugged. "You seem to have a lot of ridiculous stories, but I know you're a strong fighter. Mainly though, I just enjoy mocking you like this."

"She's secretly still a teenager inside," Alduin told the dwarf, who laughed while Ira jabbed her elbow back into Alduin's ribs. He merely winked when she glared at him.

"I'm serious when I have to be."

"Doesn't change the fact you have the mental age of a seventeen year old."

"As if you know what they're like," she retorted.

Alduin raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you that I had a fairly got seat watching Eleniel, Ruvin and Kamir growing up? Not to mention Fili and Kili are much the same."

"Alright, alright," Ira held up her hand. "So what if I like to tease people every now and then? You were just doing the exact same thing!"

"I wasn't teasing," Alduin challenged. "I was simply stating a fact."

"Sure."

Dwin chuckled by their side. "You remind me of how my wife and I used to be."

"We _are_ married," Alduin reminded him.

"Yes, I know. It just made me remember what I don't have anymore, that's all."

"You'll see her again soon, and your boy," Ira reassured him with a smile. She then looked ahead at the towering mountain. "In fact, I'd say we'll be able to see Dale within the hour."

Dwin smiled. "That's a comforting thought."

"As it should be," said the girl. "You're about to return home."

"Aye, that I am."

...

Gimli put a finger on a blood stained leaf and tasted it. He quickly spat it out in disgust. "Orc blood."

Aragorn sensed something strange in the air, and his eyes immediately looked downward, where they saw something he did not recognise. He crouched down to examine the ground more thoroughly. "These are strange tracks," he murmured to himself.

Gimli shuddered. "The air is so close in here."

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory and anger." Legolas' voice was haunting in that moment, and the elf Prince was unusually grave.

Aragorn's head snapped towards the canopy of leaves above their head when a deep groan-like noise sounded above their heads.

"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas murmured in thinly-veiled awe.

"Gimli!" Aragorn hissed, catching sight of their dwarf companion, who was holding his axe warningly in front of him. he startled when he heard Aragorn's voice. "Lower your axe."

The dwarf was clearly hesitant, but obediently did as asked, no doubt remembering what might happen to him if he didn't.

"They have feelings." Legolas said with a faint smile. "The elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees," Gimli grumbled. "What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

"Trees are some of the oldest things in existence," Ghardaz said, eyes flicking warily around them. "Through the roots they have connections to the ground, and so the whole of Middle Earth. Now, though, I sense their thoughts are somewhat closer to home."

Legolas suddenly tensed. "_Aragorn, nad no ennas_. _(Something's out there.)"_ Aragorn's body also grew taught.

_"Man cenich? (What do you see?)_" Aragorn whispered.

Legolas looked deep into the forest. "The white wizard approaches."

"Saruman," Aragorn breathed. He glanced at his friends, grasping the hilt of his sword with a sure grip. "Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us."

They all now held their weapons, preparing for the attack that was to follow. The noise of the trees around them increased, and they all leapt forward, only to be greeted by a brilliant white light that was so bright it was almost blinding. Gimli launched a throwing axe, which was deflected. Legolas fired an arrow, again deflected, and Aragorn's weapon turned red hot, enough so that Aragorn could not physically hold on. Ghardaz, however, kept his weapons close to his side, showing no signs of attacking. His eyes were open wide in surprise as he stared at the figure before him. It was as if he could see the man behind the light.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," the wizard spoke.

"Where are they?" Aragorn demanded.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday." Came the answer. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" the Ranger hissed. "Show yourself!"

The person who stepped out of the white light and revealed himself, dressed in white robes with a white staff in his hand, was not one Aragorn had ever thought he'd see again. He wore the same kind expression he always did.

"It cannot be." Aragorn breathed, stepping forward when his body threatened to collapse from the shock it had just received. His heart flared with hope in his chest.

"Forgive me," Legolas murmured, as he, Gimli and Ghardaz bowed down. "I mistook you for Saruman."

Gandalf smile sadly. "I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell." Aragorn's voice was cracked and dry with emotion.

"Through fire and water," Gandalf said lowly. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back... until my task is done."

Aragorn smiled weakly, overcome with relief. "Gandalf."

"Gandalf?" He looked puzzled for a brief moment, before his eyes crinkled with his smile. "Yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." Gandalf's eyes were hard as they met Aragorn's again, and this time the look of friendliness was gone. He was all business now. "I am Gandalf the White. And I return to you now at the turn of the tide."

...

The gates of Erebor were already open upon their arrival. Morac, son of Roäc, had dutifully gone ahead to announce their imminent arrival to Fili, who had in turn apparently ordered they be let straight in. After handing their horses (and pony) over to the stable hands, a group of four soldiers marched them towards the throne room. One led the way, while two flanked them, and the last trailed on the end. Ira felt they were more prisoners being escorted to the dungeons than visitors being led to see their families and friends.

The throne room was full of people. Fili and Kili stood together in front of the throne, talking in hushed voices. Matryd was stood slightly apart with Ruvin and Kamir. She was the first to see their procession, and she smiled upon seeing familiar faces. Ira sent a return smile, and then shifted her eyes back to the two brothers. They were now also watching.

Fili moved forwards to meet them, revealing that he had Morac perched on the shoulder that had previously been hidden from sight. "Welcome back," he greeted, giving Ira a hug and grasping Alduin's hand in a sign of friendship and respect. His blue eyes fell on Dwin, and curiosity flicked across them for a moment, before he looked back at his friends. "What brings you so far from the rest of the world?"

"Alduin and I are on a voyage to the Iron Hills. We figured it would do us good to stay here and rest for a few days, if that's no trouble."

"It isn't, although we're on constant alert from enemy movements. There might be a battle soon."

"If it happens while we're here, I can assure you that we'll help."

Fili nodded in satisfaction, before turning to face Dwin again. "Now, this is a face I haven't seen for a very long time. You went to Moria, didn't you?"

Dwin nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I spent thirty years in those mines with nothing but darkness and orcs to keep me company."

"How on earth did you survive that long?"

"They were keeping me alive, though I can't work out why. They probably thought it amusing to see a lone dwarf wandering in the dark." He shrugged. "Thankfully, I met some good people who helped me out."

"Dwin is from the Blacklock clan," Ira said, and Fili's eyes swivelled to her. "He has a wife and son here that no doubt believe he is dead."

Fili smiled knowingly. "Their names?"

"Fundin and Vevina Slate-shale," Dwin answered.

Fili's eyes lit up. "Ah, so you must be Dwin. Your boy's one of my leading soldiers. A good lad, and a formidable fighter even at such a youthful age."

"It's in his blood," Dwin offered with another shrug.

Fili smiled. "Morac." With a caw, the raven showed he was listening. "Please go and fetch Vevina and Fundin, although don't tell them why they're needed. I'm sure Dwin would much rather surprise them." Morac cawed again, before flapping his wings and whizzing out of the throne room.

"How's Eleniel?" Kili asked, appearing beside his brother.

"She was well, last I saw her," Ira replied. "We parted in the forest of Lothlórien, so it has been a good month or more since we last saw one another. And I saw Tauriel, too. She's just as well as ever."

Kili let out a quiet breath of relief, and nodded his head in thanks for the news. "That's good to hear. It's not eas-" he cut himself off, staring in shock at the rings on Alduin and Ira's fingers. It took him a few moments to find his voice again. "You two finally decided to tie the knot, huh? I figured it was coming, though I never pegged either of you as the family type."

Ira chuckled, while Alduin just quirked his lips upward at the time. "If you can believe it," Ira said, "I don't think we did, either."

Kili chuckled. "I can believe it."

Morac flew back in at that moment, landing once more on Fili's shoulder. The five of them turned towards the doorway, where an extraordinarily beautiful dwarrowdam and a rather handsome-looking dwarf lad were stood awkwardly, their confusion clear on their faces.

"Ah," Ira said with a grin, drawing their attentions, "you must the infamous Vevina and Fundin. We've heard quite a lot about you."

"Why do you need us, Lady Ira?" Fundin asked. Ira figured he knew her name from his position in the King's guard.

"It's not me that does," Ira said. "Rather, we've managed to find someone we think you've been missing for a while." She stepped to the side, revealing a rather sheepish-looking Dwin. As soon as his eyes fell on his family, however, thirty years melted off his shoulders, his face softened, and he seemed like an entirely new dwarf.

Vevina and Fundin were in a state of shock. It was Vevina who found her voice first. "D-Dwin?"

* * *

**CLIFFIE! Well, sort of.**

**Until next weekend, my lovelies ;)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel and Ghardaz. Mac Gustah owns Dwin, Vevina and Fundin.**

**A/N: Okay, yes, I'm a very bad person, not updating for so long. Sorry. It's been somewhat hectic here, especially with my brother going off to university last weekend. Hopefully you'll forgive me.**

**Big thanks to: hunterrylee, HHunter101, BetterWithThree101, RightHandOfPalpatine, Fredegar, Thecronus213 and nitro740 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: ...Nah, that's alright, keep your manliness. You'll probably make better use of it than me. As for the birthday wishes, cheers. Oh, and don't stop being random. Randomness is highly underrated. Anywho...**

**snowbeard3: Well, you're about to find out! *dramtic flourish with flashing lights and laser beams, because DRAMA!***

**Darkcrest27: If you go on the LotR wiki pages, you'll see that Kili was 77 during the Erebor quest, and Fili was 82, making them five years apart. Which, when you think of the lifespan of dwarves, is not very much, but, no, they're not twins.**

**gabiey: Thanks, here ya go!**

* * *

**Chapter 26:**

To say that Vevina's eyes were wide would be an understatement. They'd practically popped out of her skull. Fundin was little better.

"D-Dwin?"

Dwin smiled. "Hello, sanâzyung," he greeted. "How've you been?"

Ira wanted to face-palm. That there was the perfect response that would warrant a physical retaliation. Vevina stormed up to him and-

Ira winced. That was a solid punch.

Dwin stumbled back, rubbing his jaw while everyone just stood back and stared in shock. Vevina then grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him full on the mouth.

Clearing her throat quietly, Ira averted her eyes from the scene, suddenly finding the leather straps of Alduin's armour to be very interesting.

"What took you so long?!" Vevina demanded, and the Dragonborn risked a glance back. Thankfully, it didn't seem like they were going to attack each other again any time soon. Physically or... _romantically._

Dwin shrugged. "It's a long story. Look, I promise I'll explain everything later, but this is not the time and place for such things." Hesitantly, Vevina nodded. Dwin turned face his son, who was clearly fighting back tears. "Come here, azaghâlithûh." Fundin stepped forward, slowly at first, but then his eagerness to reunite with his father took over, and he sped up. He practically threw himself at Dwin, and Ira smiled slightly at the sight of the family. They were huddled together, letting out tears of joy, muttering to one another in both the common tongue and khuzdul.

Alduin's arm suddenly snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him, the action alone taking her mind back to last night's conversation about family. She glanced up to see Alduin already looking down at her, a promise for later shining in his amber eyes. Swallowing the thrill of nerves and anticipation that shot through her, Ira faced the others again.

Having apparently caught the look they shared, Fili's knowing blue eyes shone with mischief, and he smirked at them. Ira shot him a glare that clearly said 'Not. A. Word.'

When Dwin's family finally pulled away from one another, Fili turned to one of the maids hovering by the doors. "Please get Alduin and Ira a room," he said. "Keep it close to the royal suites." The maid bobbed into a curtsey, before rushing out of the room.

Ira suddenly found Vevina standing in front of her. "Oh," she said in surprise (she refused to admit she'd practically squeaked). "Hello."

Vevina grinned. "I'd like to thank you for returning my husband to me."

Ira shrugged. "It was no trouble. He made for quite an amusing travelling companion."

Vevina chuckled. "He's never really learnt to be serious."

"Vevina!"

"It's true, dear." Dwin visibly sulked, and everyone chuckled. She turned back. "Anyway, thank you again. I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done."

"We don't want payment," Alduin said, while Ira nodded her head. "I guess seeing him reunite with his family is enough."

Ira's eyebrows rose, and she glanced at him. "Since when did you become such a softy?"

"I think that's something we're all wondering," Kili murmured. Alduin rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"I'd imagine Ira may have had something to do with that," Matryd said, coming closer with her son and nephew. "It's the job of a wife to make her man a better person."

"Excuse me," Kili said poutingly, "I was _perfect, _thank you very much."

"Oh really?" Matryd challenged.

"You were childish," Ira offered.

"Careless," Fili added.

"Foolish." That was Alduin.

"Impatient." Ira again.

"Tactless." Alduin.

"Thoughtless." Fili.

"Impulsive." Matryd.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Kili held his hands up, while the rest grinned smugly at him. "So maybe I wasn't perfect, but that doesn't mean Tauriel's made me a better dwarf."

"But she has," Ira argued. "I imagine if you saw yourself as you were on the Quest for Erebor you too would think yourself rather immature. Same with Fili, probably."

"It's not like it doesn't work the other way round, though," Dwin piped up.

"It's true," Matryd agreed. "Fili taught me how to control my annoyance in front of my council."

"Alduin's the only person alive who can actually snap me out of my rage when it flares," Ira said, and she felt Alduin's arm around her tighten slightly. "And since meeting him I've been able to trust my instincts more easily."

"Okay, so can we all just agree that everyone makes everyone better?" Kiki grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Good. Now, if you will excuse me, I am exhausted. Goodnight to you all, and I guess I'll see you... whenever." Without further ado, he walked off, steps quite clearly heavy and dragging.

Matryd sighed. "He's been doing that more and more lately," she muttered.

"What?"

Fili shared a concerned look with his wife. "He's been getting really tired a lot. Not to mention he seems to be physically deteriorating."

"He's losing weight?"

"That, and a lot of the time the contents of his stomach," Fili added, brow pinched with concern. "Kili being Kili, he denies that anything serious is wrong with him, but it's been going on for a while now, and the healers have asked us to keep an extra close eye on him."

Ira was quiet for a long time, searching through her extensive memory. These symptoms sounded familiar, as if she'd been near someone who had experienced the same thing. She muttered idly under her breath as she thought. "Fatigue, loss of weight, nausea..." Her eyebrows lifted. "What else?"

"What else? Well-"

"Loss of appetite, strange red marks on his hands, sporadic sleeping patterns...?"

Fili nodded slowly. "All of the above."

"Draaf," Ira hissed.

"What is it?" Alduin asked, noticing the panic in her eyes. She was quiet for a long time, eyes glazed over as she recalled as much as she could about Oerin's condition. "Ira."

She blinked away the memories. "I've known someone who experienced the same thing. Well, at least at the start. It later developed to moments of confusion and memory-loss, high fevers and shivers, immense shortness of breath simply from walking around and, on a couple of occasions, he started vomiting blood."

"What happened to him?" Dwin asked. Ira had almost forgotten he and his family were even there.

"Long story short: he died. But they did at least discover what was wrong with him."

"What?"

"He was experiencing liver failure."

Fili's eyebrows rose. "What even _is_ that?"

"From what I can remember of what I was told, the liver is important for many things in the body. If it fails, so too does your body, in a nutshell. The healer told me the most likely cause is drinking too much, or ingesting too much salt."

"If this is what Kili has, how can we stop it?"

Ira exhaled slowly. "I don't know," she admitted, voice meek and quiet. "Have you taken him to see any of the healers or alchemists from Nirn?"

"No, why?"

"Well, their magic could be able to heal him. And if not, a Cure Disease potion should do the trick. It was too late by the time we realised what was wrong with Oerin, but the healers were confident a potion could have saved him if given in plenty of time."

Nodding sharply, Fili instructed Morac to find both a healer and alchemist who still had the aforementioned skills, and the raven once again launched himself from the King's shoulder. They young maid from earlier re-entered the hall, and, after curtseying again, led Alduin and Ira along the stone corridors towards their new chambers. Ira's grip on Alduin's hand as they walked was like a vice.

...

"Welcome to the camp of the banished, Princess," Eomer stated dryly as they and their company entered the camp, finding themselves amongst hundreds - maybe even thousands - of tents. Every ten tents or so there was a campfire lit, casting an orange glow on the morose faces of the camp's inhabitants.

"What a dreary place," Eleniel stated bluntly.

Eomer glanced back at her, leading her towards his own personal place, on the outskirts of the camp. "We have been betrayed by our own King. It would be a surprise to find anything else but weary men with sorrowful hearts."

"You must have some faith and hope left, else you would not still be here," the elleth pointed out with a quick grin, and Eomer tilted his head to the side in recognition of her words.

"We do indeed. We may not be allowed in Edoras, but Rohan is still our home, and we feel it our duty to protect her."

"You're doing a fine job," Eleniel commented, jumping back as a drunken man stumbled past her, almost barrelling her over with his weight and size. She was tall, but her narrow and willowy figure made her incredibly small compared to these men.

Eomer chuckled and gently took her by the crook of her elbow, leading her faster so she wouldn't get trampled to death. "Thank you, my lady," he said.

Eleniel sighed. "How many times must I ask you-"

"Not to call you 'my lady'?" Eomer finished with a wide grin, which caused Eleniel to narrow her eyes at him. "As many as you wish. But that won't make me stop. It is an acknowledgement of your station."

"Which I appreciate," Eleniel retorted. "That doesn't mean you have to continue to address me that way, though."

"No, it doesn't," Eomer agreed. "But I can't deny I take pleasure in seeing you so annoyed."

Eleniel scowled. "You're beginning to behave like my brother," she grumbled.

Eomer threw his head back and let out a loud bark of laughter. "You forget; I have a sister of my own. I know what gets on your nerves. All women are the same."

"Excuse me," she bit out, "but women are about as alike to one another as elves and dwarves. Same as men. Don't make the assumption that just because you know some who are similar, that we all fall in the same category."

Eomer held his hands up in a pacifying manner. "Forgive me," he said, "I did not wish to offend you. My interactions with women are admittedly few, but for my sister and the noblewomen my uncle likes to send my way. There are simply some things that seem to get the same reaction from you all."

Eleniel let out a long breath. "Fine, you're forgiven. But please don't make assumptions like that again. Mahal only knows how many poor people I've ranted to about things like that."

Eomer smirked. "Somehow, I think I can guess. Come, I suspect there will be a meal for us somewhere close by."

"Good to hear; I'm starved."

* * *

**For those interested, the khuzdul meanings are as follows:**

**sanâzyung: true/pure/perfect love**

**azaghâlithûh: my warrior that is young**

**Until next time, my lovelies!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Ghardaz, Eleniel and (for this chapter only) Carenna. Dwin and family belong to Mac Gustah (but they were on holiday during this chappie).**

**A/N: Sorry I missed the weekend, but Monday's close, right? So I've officially started my GCSE exams. Turns out I'll have completed almost half of my drama work (45%) by the end of this month. Yup, I'm going to have a busy next couple weeks (not to mention my holiday to Rome that's coming up (SO excited), so if I'm slow to update, that'll be why.**

**Big thanks to: JjEldred, 0769Alpha1378, SoteiraStar, Lord Potter96, Harvester23 and NoirDixMois for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**snowbeard3: Haha, cheers. This ones a bit of a filler, but I hope you enjoy it anyways.**

**jsun25: Yeah, they can both still Shout, there just hasn't been much opportunity to recently. Just wait until they get to the Iron Hills... :D**

**Mac Gustah: I don't actually remember where I found the khuzdul, only that I took lots of screenshots on my phone. If you want, I can send it all to you via PM...? And yes... That was a fuck-ton of ass-kissing (your words, not mine). And it's English Channel. You were pretty close, though. Guess you're not a geography fan, huh? XD**

**gabiey: Hi again! I'm glad you're still thinking this is good. Your constant support is a great help, so thanks.**

**Ny'Kle: Yuppppppp.**

* * *

**Chapter 27:**

Ira woke the next morning to the sensation of a calloused finger gently drawing formless patterns on her arm. The sensation tickled her slightly, but it was comforting and calming.

Slowly opening her eyes, Ira found herself staring at the shapely, muscular torso of her husband. Memories of the night before flooded her mind, and the Dragonborn smiled slightly, ignoring the increased heat in her cheeks.

A deep rumble from below brought Alduin's voice to her ears. "It's strange to think I fell in love with you almost eighty years ago." Did he know she was awake? "I didn't even know I was capable of feeling love, but, as in all things, you surprised me by making it so." Ira decided he was probably just musing to himself, so continued to lie quietly, listening to him talk. "We didn't have an easy start, and as soon as I realised my feelings for you I thought we were doomed. The Dragonborn and the World Eater - it seemed impossible. And somehow it's worked." He let out a long breath, the warmth hitting the back of Ira's neck. "What have you done to me, lokaal?" That question was whispered so softly Ira almost didn't hear it. In fact, she likely wouldn't have if she didn't have her head pressed against his chest, so his voice went directly from his body into her ear. "I don't think I can really call myself a dragon anymore. You've changed me too much. I can barely even remember what being a dragon is like." Ira's heart clenched at the knowledge she had sucked his heritage from him, but then he kept talking. "The strange thing is, I don't care. It's a lot simpler living like you do - on two legs, the world a huge obstacle course. You don't have to live with the same concerns." His hand ran down the length of her arm which was slung loosely over his waist, hand lightly grasping the edge of their shared blanket. "I'll never be able to repay you for what you've given me."

Ira smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest, noticing how his whole body jerked at the unexpected movement. So he _had_ been talking to himself, after all. She lifted her head so she was looking directly at him, and then she said firmly, "Don't think you're the only one who's grateful for what we have. You've given me a whole other chance at life. Heck, a different type of life entirely!" She wriggled her way up his body so her head was resting on his shoulder, and her hand rested on his breast. "If I had the chance to go through my life all over again," she whispered, lips brushing against the skin of his neck as she spoke, "I wouldn't change a thing."

Alduin's hand lightly gripped her chin, lifting her head so he could slam his lips down on hers. Ira's arms wound their way around his neck, fisting themselves in his hair. Alduin's hand slid from her chin, over her hip and along her leg, before hoisting it up so it rested against his waist. He then used his strength to pull her tightly against him so there was barely any space between them at any point. His face buried itself in her hair. "I love you," he muttered.

Ira smiled, hugging him close to her. "I love you too." She pushed his head back gently, pressed her lips to his, and last night's dance began anew.

...

"Edoras," Gandalf declared grandly, "and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over Theoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say, and do not look for welcome here."

He nudged Shadowfax into a canter, and the others followed behind. The main gates to Edoras were already open, and none of the guards attempted to prevent their entry.

They slowed their horses to a walk as they made their way up towards the palace. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli grumbled to himself.

"Their lands are being plundered by orcs, and their King is being taken over," Ghardaz said. "What else would you expect?"

They dismounted their horses at the foot of the steps leading up to the palace doors, then ascended. They were halted before the doors by a dozen guards. Gandalf smiled at the leader, Hama.

"I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," he said. "By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Gandalf hummed and nodded to his companions, who began handing over their weapons. The men of Rohan had little correspondence with the people of Nirn, and so the sight of Ghardaz unnerved many, and only one seemed brave enough to actually approach him and take his axes.

Once that was done, the group looked expectantly once more at Hama. "Your staff," he said, eyes showing he knew what the wizard was up to.

"Oh, surely you would not part an old man from his walking stick," Gandalf said. Hama gave him a flat look, but relented nonetheless. Gandalf glanced over his shoulder and sent a discrete wink to Aragorn, before accepting Legolas' offered arm and entering the Golden Hall. Aragorn followed afterwards, and then Ghardaz and Gimli took up the rear.

Before the throne knelt a man with sickly skin and greasy black hair, as well as no eyebrows. He whispered to the King.

"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King," Gandalf said, his voice filling all the gaps in the large room.

"Why... should I... welcome you... Gandalf... Stormcrow?" The King's voice was weak and laboured, and once he managed to squeeze that sentence out, he turned to Grima, as if seeking approval.

The man nodded. "A just question, my liege." He stood up and addressed them. "Late is the hour on which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him; ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silenced!" Gandalf snapped. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crude words with a witless worm." The wizard brandished his staff, and Grima stumbled back.

"His staff! I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Soldiers ran forward, but Legolas, Gimli, Ghardaz and Aragorn moved to intercept them, keeping their attention away from Gandalf, who continued to approach Theoden as if there wasn't a fight going on right behind him.

"Theoden, son of Thengel," he said at length. "Too long have you sat in the shadows. Harken to me!" Gandalf raised an arm, and the King grimaced. "I release you from this spell."

When nothing happened, Theoden began to cackle. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf threw his grey cloak from his shoulders, and a bright light filled the room for a moment, before dying down. "I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," he said lowly.

Theoden snarled, and suddenly the voice that escaped his lips was not that of the King. It was stronger and deeper. "If I go, Theoden dies!"

"You did not kill me," the wizard snapped. "You will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine!" Theoden lunged for Gandalf, but Gandalf thrust his staff forward and the King suddenly slackened, slipping off his throne. A blonde woman darted forward to catch him, and the whole hall watched in awe as the years drained from Theoden's face, and the strength returned to him.

"Uncle?"

He looked into the face of the girl and gently touched her skin. With teary eyes, she smiled at him. "I know your face," Theoden murmured. "Eowyn. Eowyn!" Her smile widened, and Theoden shifted his expression. His eyes fell upon the wizard. "Gandalf?"

Gandalf stood back, weary, but content. "Breathe the free air again, my old friend."

Theoden looked down at his fingers, murmuring, "Dark have been my dreams of late."

Gandalf gestured behind him, prompting Hama to come forth. "Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," he said, and Hama knelt on one knee, offering the King's blade to him. Slowly, his fingers wrapped around the hilt, and the King of Rohan drew his blade from its scabbard. For a long moment he just gazed at his sword, before his eyes lowered and met the cowering form of Grima Wormtongue. A hard expression fell across Theoden's face.

By the King's orders, Grima was flung down the steps of the Meduseld, with Theoden following slowly, sword still grasped tightly in his hand.

"I have only _ever_ served you, my lord," Grima wailed, crawling backwards.

"Your witchcraft would have me crawling on all fours like a _beast!_" The King snarled in response.

"Send me not from your side!"

Theoden raised his sword, preparing to strike the fool down, but Aragorn sprung forward and caught his arm before the blow struck home. "No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account." He offered a hand to Grima, but the man spat on it, picked himself up, and fled into the gathered crowd.

"Hail Theoden King!" Hama called, and everyone bowed. Theoden had no pride or joy in his eyes when he looked out as his people; instead, a frown marred his face.

"Where is Theodred?" He asked, turning back around to face Eowyn. "Where is my son?"

...

Ira was walking aimlessly along the corridors and narrow bridges that filled the kingdom of Erebor. Alduin had gone to speak to Fili about getting some provisions when the time came for them to leave, leaving Ira with some time to herself. She had gone down to the forges to do some crafting, but quickly grew too hot, and so she decided to explore the vast halls of Erebor. She was nothing more or less than an object of fascination for the locals who had never met her before, yet somehow knew exactly who she was.

A little girl who Ira recognised to be of her own race approached her with a grin. "Hello!"

Ira smiled. "Hi there."

"Are you the Dragonborn?" Asked the girl, eyes wide with curiosity. She couldn't have been more than about five or six years old.

Chuckling, Ira knelt down and nodded her head. "I am. My name is Ira. What's your name?"

"Carenna. Nice to meet you, miss."

"Likewise," Ira replied with a smile. "Now what are you doing all the way up here?"

Carenna shrugged. "I was in the market with mama and Tyrnis but then I heard that you and Mister Alduin were here, so I came to find you."

Ira smiled. "Well I'm honoured, but you really shouldn't leave your family without letting them know. Your mama's probably worried sick." She held out a hand and, after sending her a confused look, Carenna accepted. Ira grinned conspiratorially and grasped Carenna's arm strongly, before swinging the young girl onto her back. Carenna squealed, but then burst into a fit of giggles when she settled herself on Ira's back.

"You're really strong," she said, still laughing. "Not even papa could do that."

"Well," Ira said quietly, as if sharing a special secret, "I _am_ part dragon."

"Really?! Cool!"

"Ira!" Ira turned around and saw Alduin heading her way, a look of amusement and astonishment on his face. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I picked up a friend," Ira said innocently. "I was about to take her back to the market, because she decided to make an escape from her family."

Carenna waved. "Hi!"

Alduin shook his head good-naturedly but gently ruffled Carenna's hair. "Hello, brit kon. Up to no good, are you?"

Carenna pouted. "Not fair! You can't use words I don't understand."

"_**Nau vovoth, Zu'u lorot rok vis, (On the contrary, I think he can,)**_" Ira said, making Alduin chuckle, and Carenna gently hit her. "Alright, alright," Ira said, refraining from tickling the girl in retribution. "Come on, we best get you back before the entire mountain is in an uproar."

"You really think a missing child is enough for that?" Alduin asked as they walked side-by-side along the bridge, which was only just about wide enough, but they were both very sure-footed, so the chances of either falling or stumbling were very slim.

Ira shrugged. "It's happened before. Maybe not in Erebor, but the whole of Markarth went mental trying to find a child who just turned out to be hiding from his parents in the cellar of their house."

"And how do you know this?"

"I told him where to hide."

Alduin stopped mid-step. "Are you being serious?"

Ira smirked. "The best place to hide someone sometimes is very close to where they're supposed to be. He had enough food and water to safely last him a week, along with a bed roll and enough wood to keep a healthy fire going for at least a month." Alduin shook his head, before catching up with her again just as they found the main set of stairs that led down to the bustling marketplace. Carenna's head was resting on Ira's shoulder, and Alduin suddenly started chuckling. "What?" Ira queried, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Your little friend appears to have taken a nap on your shoulder."

Ira glanced back and saw that, indeed, Carenna was snoozing silently, one hand gripping a lock of Ira's hair, the other grasping hold of her shoulder. Ira smiled. "Apparently searching for someone is tiring."

"With all these stairs, it's understandable," the dragon grumbled.

They stepped into the market, finding it full to bursting with dwarves, men, elves, nords, khajiit and the occasional orc or argonian. A woman who had similar features to Carenna was rushing about frantically, pausing only to say a few hurried words to passers-by, before frowning and continuing on. "I think we just found the mother," Ira said dryly just as the woman caught sight of them. She let out a cry of relief and rushed towards them, followed promptly by a boy who looked to be about fifteen.

"Carenna!" The woman gushed, causing the girl to stir.

Ira smiled. "Your daughter decided to try to find my husband and myself. She fell asleep on the walk back," she explained, handing Carenna over to her mother. The girl yawned and fell asleep against almost instantly.

"Thank you for looking after her," the woman said, holding Carenna closer to her.

"No problem," Ira said. A thought suddenly struck her, and she pulled out one of three pins from the small bag tied to her belt. She pressed it into the woman's hand. "Give this to Carenna, and please tell her it's from Ira."

The woman looked down at the brooch and smiled, before nodding. "Thank you, Lady Ira. I know it will mean a lot to her. You've become something of a legend here."

"Something I'm sure she's used to," Alduin stated dryly, causing Ira to whirl around and slap his arm. Carenna's mother laughed.

Ira smiled sweetly at the woman. "Perhaps we'll see you again some time."

"Perhaps," the woman agreed. "And hopefully in lighter times. Have a good day."

"And you as well." Ira watched as Carenna's family disappeared into the crowds, before leaning slightly against Alduin's body, a longing expression on her face.

Alduin, knowing her so well, rubbed her shoulder gently. "One day that'll be you," he promised quietly.

Ira let out a sigh. "One day," she agreed.

* * *

**So that's the next chapter! Lots of Alduin/Ira fluff.**

**Until next time! :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I only own Ira, Eleniel, Ghardaz, Carenna and (for a short time) Johna. Mac Gustah owns Dwin, Vevina and Fundin.**

**A/N: Okay, it's been ages. Sorry, I've just been somewhat lacking inspiration. Updates might slow down for a bit until I regain my eagerness for this story. Bear with me for the time being. Thanks x**

**BIG thanks to: lordrednight, Aria-chanforever, Minaly22, Reaper Of All Souls and Master Archive for favouriting/following. Love you guys. Have a virtual cookie (because I can't make cookies in real life. Tried once. Epic fail... I will say no more on the subject.)**

**Review Response(s):**

**snowbeard3: I'm glad you thought so. :)**

**Ny'Kle: Don't I know it *~***

**Mac Gustah: No, I have not heard of DayZ. Sounds interesting, though. I am glad to hear that the fluff made thou happy, although I must regretfully inform thou that there is none in this chapter. XD**

**jsun25: Yes, she did. If you go through the first chapter or two of Dragons of the North, you'll find reference to Durnehviir being one of her dragon allies.**

**Guest: Aww, thank you. That's a BIG statement, it must be said, although I'm ecstatic to hear it. That being said... there is a cliffie in this chapter too. (Sorry, not sorry).**

**gabiey: Have I told you I love you? No? Okay, I love you. haha, thanks so much. That was really heart-warming to read. For that, and as an extra thank you, I will dedicate this chapter to you. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 28:**

Alduin and Ira decided to stay in Erebor for a week before heading off to the North, to give them time to rest, prepare, and devise a hopefully fool-proof plan. During that time Ira also made frequent trips down to the forges to make them more weapons - smaller ones that they could hide amongst their armour. Much to her amusement, Ira would often find Carenna 'wandering around', and it had happened so often that Carenna's mother had begun to stop worrying once she found her daughter missing, for Ira would always return to the market to reunite mother and daughter before nightfall.

Kili also seemed a lot better. He was still struggling to sleep at the normal times, but his appetite was slowly returning and his bouts of sickness were becoming fewer. Apparently, it was taking a Cure Disease potion every day for these improvements to happen, but the stubborn dwarf was relenting to the fact that he _was_ sick, and so took his potions with only a small amount of grumbling - most of which was about the foul taste.

Currently, Alduin and Ira were in the throne room with Fili, Matryd and Dwin, who, having offered up his services, had taken up the post of Fili's personal guard. The dwarf was stalwart in his duties, and his humorous nature became less obvious when there were potential threats in the room. Like now.

A man stood before them, and while he didn't seem very imposing, Ira couldn't shake the feeling of dread in her gut. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, and her eyes closely watched every move he made, be it a tiny shuffle or shift of weight, or something more obvious, like lifting a hand to tuck a lock of his pearly white hair behind his ear. His eyes were crystal blue, and he had a youthful, admittedly handsome face. In truth, despite the daggers at his waist, and the bow and arrows on his back, he looked pretty harmless. And yet he _felt_ wrong.

Alduin had clearly noticed the same thing, for his amber eyes were narrowed in scrutiny, and every muscle in his shoulders was tensed in preparation for an attack. He, too, had a hand on his sword.

The man had been led into the mountain by an escort of six guards, Dwin's son amongst them. He had come willingly, they had told him, and he claimed to simply be passing through to reach Dale. Said he lived there, and often hunted nearby (hence the bow). This was a story they unanimously doubted. Many in the room had come and gone to Dale dozens of times, and not a single one of them had ever laid eyes on him before. He tried to explain that he'd only been living in Dale for a little over a year, but no one was convinced.

Fili had him sent to the dungeons until he could spare the time to interrogate the man. Though Ira thought it was a slightly harsh move, the man was promised decent food and drink, and Fili assured her after the man left that he wouldn't keep him waiting long.

"I don't like him," Dwin said immediately.

"Nor I," Matryd agreed. "He seems innocent enough, but something about him seems just plain wrong. Like he's hiding something very big."

"He most likely is," Alduin grumbled. "For a moment, I almost thought he was a magical creature."

"Me too," Ira said. "He has a strange aura about him. Almost as if he..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"What?" Fili asked.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Ira..."

She sighed. "I don't know... He reminded me of the feeling I got off of the people in Shor's Hall. And off of Akatosh, too. It felt like it was something beyond this plane of existence."

...

"They had no warning, they were unarmed. Now the wild men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree," Eowyn informed them from by the two children. They had arrived less than an hour previously, malnourished and exhausted.

"Where is mama?" The girl cried, but Eowyn quickly shushed her whilst placing a thick blanket over her shoulders.

Gandalf's voice echoed in the air from his seat beside Theoden's throne. The King himself had his head in his hand. "This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children." The wizard grasped the arm of Theoden's throne. "You _must_ fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn said. "Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their King. And he is not alone. The fair Princess of Erebor rides with him."

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now," Theoden despaired, rising from his seat. "Eomer cannot help us." He turned to Gandalf. "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

"When I last looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan," the blonde snapped, but Aragorn did not outwardly react. His face remained still.

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf asked, and a deep breath escaped Theoden's lungs.

...

"By order of the King, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need."

"Helm's Deep! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their King?"

The white wizard was positively fuming as he thundered through the streets of Edoras and into the stables.

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn defended the King. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

The white wizard shook his head in despair. "There is no way out of that ravine. Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them into safety. But what they'll get is a massacre." He exhaled deeply. "Theoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. Their defenses _have_ to hold."

The heir of Isildur nodded gravely and promised, "They will hold."

Gandalf mounted Shadowfax and patted the mearas' fine neck. "The gray pilgrim, that's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth and now I have no time." He turned to face Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn once more. "With luck my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

"Go," Aragorn urged, and Shadowfax sprung forward, carrying his rider swiftly across the plains of Rohan. A loud neighing caught Aragorn's attention, and he turned to see a horse struggling furiously against the ropes tethering it to the wall. The great beast reared onto its hind legs, tossing its head and snorting. Eowyn, taking care of another horse, turned to watch as the trained Ranger approached the wold horse, whose eyes were darting about everywhere.

"That horse is half mad, my lord," a stable hand told Aragorn, who spared the boy little more than a glance. "There's nothing you can do. Leave him."

But he was ignored, and Aragorn drew closer to the horse, murmuring to it in elvish. Upon hearing the lilting tongue, the horse began to calm down. Slowly, and not without caution, Aragorn released the horse of one of its ropes. The horse remained where he was. Still in elvish, Aragorn hummed out a question. "_Hwæt nemnað ðe? (What is your name?)_"

"His name is Brego," Eowyn said from behind, and though her words surprised him, Aragorn knew she didn't know the elvish language. "He was my cousin's horse."

Aragorn smiled at the horse, stroking his long nose. "_Brego? Ðin nama is cynglic._ _(Brego? Your name is kingly.)_" The horse, now calm with the aid of Aragorn's voice, shuffled slightly closer to the Ranger, begging for more petting. With a knowing smile, he obliged and continued to mutter.

"I have heard of the magic of elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North. You speak as one of their own."

Hesitantly, Aragorn answered, "I was raised in Rivendell... for a time, along with many who are and were like family to me." He patted Brego's neck one last time, before facing the Shieldmaiden fully. "Turn this fellow free. He's seen enough of war."

...

With Carenna once again by her side, Ira made her way down towards the market. Carenna was cheerfully babbling on about this and that, moving from topic to topic so quickly Ira struggled to keep up. First it was her annoying brother, then how she missed her father, then how much she wanted a pretty bracelet she'd seen, then there was a quick thank you for her brooch, and now she was questioning Ira on what it was like to be a shape-shifting legend, although without giving the Dragonborn time to answer.

Presently, Ira let out a pleasant laugh, making Carenna pause her long speech and take a breath.

"What?" The girl questioned poutingly, as if upset that she had been interrupted.

"It's nothing, brit kon. I have spent so long in the company of adults, being near you is refreshing."

Carenna pursed her lips. "Thank you...? I don't really know what you mean by that, but I think it's a good thing."

Ira chuckled and patted the top of Carenna's head reassuringly. "It is, don't worry."

The child let out an exaggerated breath of relief, which had Ira smiling and chuckling again. A commotion suddenly sprung up ahead, and without hesitation Ira rushed forward to see what was going on, Carenna trailing slightly behind her.

"Johna!"

"Papa, help me!" The returning cry was that of a boy, probably even younger than Carenna was.

Ira knelt before the girl. "Do you know where the King's throne room is?" She asked in an urgent voice. Carenna paled slightly, but nodded. "Go there and tell the King what's going on here. Can you do that for me while I help out down here?"

Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw, a determined glint appeared in Carenna's eyes, and she nodded again, before scampering off. Ira straightened and marched purposefully towards the sound of a wailing boy. The crowd, sensing her intent, parted for her, letting her through without opposition. A dwarf was lying on the ground, stretching his arm down to reach his son, but the boy was several metres too far and couldn't climb up. Tear tracks decorated his pale face, and he let out shuddering sobs every few seconds.

For a moment, a wave of nostalgia washed over Ira. She had been in that boys shoes, in the Misty Mountains with the company of Thorin Oakenshield. This only hardened her resolve, though. She approached the dwarf and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing his face to whip her way. He sagged in relief when he recognised her, before stepping back to let her do her work.

Ira wasted no time.

Swinging herself over the side of the bridge, noticing that, by sheer luck alone, the boy had fallen where there was a support holding up the bridge. A metre in either direction and he would have simply fallen. Luckily for her, the legs were crumbling in places, giving her solid purchase for her fingers as she slowly descended the support. She reached the boy in just under a minute, and, with a little difficulty, managed to swing him onto her back. His legs clung to her waist, and his arms were wrapped so tightly around her neck he was almost cutting off her air supply.

"Are you hurt?" Ira asked him as she struggling back up. This was always the more difficult part of climbing, and the extra weight wasn't doing her any favours.

"I hurt my knees and hands," the boy muttered weakly. "Thank you for saving my, lady."

Ira smiled. "Don't thank me yet; there's still a way to go."

Unfortunately for them, two feet later, the support began to crumbling, and Ira lost grip of the leg with one of her hands. She cursed under her breath as she clung on with just a few fingers, searching frantically for somewhere she could put her now hanging arm, but there was nothing. Resignation filled her, and quick as a flash, Ira let go of the leg, twisting her body to move the boy from her back to her front. On instinct she curled around him as they fell. The boy's cries, along with those of the spectators from above, echoed down the cavern long after the bridge went out of sight.

Ira screwed her eyes shut and prayed to the Aedra, putting all her body, mind and soul behind it in the hopes that they would respond in time.

* * *

**Cliffie! That is all.**

**Until next time! XD**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: I own Ira, Eleniel, Ghardaz, Matryd and Carenna. Mac Gustah owns Dwin, Fundin and Vevina. **

**A/N: I WAS ON HOLIDAY! There you go - the reason for the lack of updates. Sorry for not informing you earlier. Enjoy!**

**Big thanks to: Werde Spinner and SomeRandonBoredGuy for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Hmm... DayZ sounds cool. I shall have to look further into it :) And, yes, I think my exams went alright. I'll hopefully find out on Monday (then again, I was told I'd find out the results of my first exam two weeks ago... still waiting for them, so, I'm not holding my breath). As always, thanks for the smiles :)**

**gabiey: Yay! :) XD**

* * *

**Chapter 29:**

Alduin knew it was too late by the time he, Fili, Dwin and Carenna arrived at the scene. The dwarves were utterly silent, staring either down into the darkness below them or at the dwarf who was sat on his knees with a blank look on his face.

"What happened?" Fili demanded.

"They fell," the lone dwarf answered, and his voice was lifeless. It was devoid of all things except its bare essence.

They fell.

Alduin knew who _they_ were - the child and his wife. For a moment, denial struck him hard, and a look of thunder crossed his face at the thought that this _puny dwarf_ was lying to him. But one look around him successfully doused his sudden rage, only for it to be placed by earth-shattering grief. As his eyes shifted towards the blackness, his body began to tremble. The anger returned. Anger that was not aimed at the man, but at Ira. For being so reckless. For being so selfless as to risk her life for a mere _child._ She was _his;_ she was not allowed to die without his say-so. And he would never allow it. Never.

"Alduin..."

His name registered slowly, and even then he did not respond. His hands clenched into fists, then unclenched again. And this repeated several times. He needed to do _something_, otherwise he'd probably knock at least a dozen people off the bridge to their deaths.

Ever since he'd been introduced to it, he had always dealt with grief by turning it into anger. Admittedly he'd grieved only three or four times in his life, and one wasn't so much grief but rather irritation and annoyance. But the result was the same. At least he had some semblance of control of himself.

Usually.

But, as with all things, his feisty, sometimes childlike wife was the exception. With the way his body shook, his nails dug into the palms of his hands, and his heart practically imploded in his chest, he knew to be anywhere near anyone would be dangerous until he had regained control of himself.

He turned. Took one step.

The whole mountain shuddered.

Alduin paused, knowing only something enormous could have caused such a vibration in the mountain. His head slowly turned, and he ignored the stares of the people around him. It seemed only he knew what was going on and so everyone was looking to him for answers. He provided none. While hope flared in his chest, dread settled in the pit of his stomach. _Oh, Ira, what were you thinking?_

And then it came; a noise so familiar to him that it almost brought a full-blown smile to his face. Instead he simply muttered, "They're alive."

It was the quiet, steady beat of wings.

His voice travelled further in the silence, and the weeping dwarf, whom Alduin assumed was the child's father, looked up him. "What?"

Alduin's eyes sparked with certainty. "They're alive."

"How?" Asked the dwarf, stumbling to his feet. "How can they possibly be alive after a fall like that?!"

Alduin smirked. "I think you've forgotten who fell down there."

And following those words came a great, bellowing roar. Less than a second later Ira shot up into the air in all her draconic glory, burgundy scales glistening, blue eyes sparking. The child was clinging onto her left leg for dear life, a look of panic and terror on his face, but Alduin could also see the relief and awe there.

A great cheer went up in the crowd, and they moved to give Ira the space to land. As soon as the boy had detached himself from her leg, Ira's body trembled, and she shrunk back down to her human form. Alduin stepped forward and stopped her from collapsing, having instinctually known that the transformations would have left her exhausted.

Her fingers gripped his arms weakly, and her breath was stilted and uneven, but she was alive. And that was what was important. Alduin placed a hand under her chin, lifted her head, and smashed his lips against hers. Another cheer rose up from the crowd, but he bore them no mind. He was too wrapped up in the stupid woman he held so dear, in the feel of her lips and the warmth of her body even as she shook against him. The kiss he received in return was no less violent, though she pulled back sooner than he'd have hoped. Her breathing was faster now, to the point where it could be called a pant.

Alduin's hands fisted in her hair as he brought his forehead to rest against hers, and even as he held her he could feel her body sagging against his. "You're such an idiot," he whispered fondly to her.

Ira let out a weak chuckle, smiling up at him with tired but cheerful eyes. "I do believe it's one of the many reasons you fell in love with me."

Snorting, Alduin leaned back and tapped her nose. "Well, clearly you're not _that_ tired, if you still have the energy to make quips like that."

"I don't recall ever saying I was tired."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Stop being difficult, lokaal." His voice quietened, enough so that no one but Ira could hear him. "What were you thinking?"

"Two things. First, that I have been in that boy's situation, and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone." She smirked. "It even ended the same way - with a dragon swooping in to save the day."

"And the second?"

Ira's eyes shifted, and her head dropped. Alduin's eyebrows rose. This usually only happened when she was ashamed, embarrassed, or very upset. "I was thinking about how I would feel it that was _my_ son. And I didn't want that dwarf to have to live through losing his child."

Hearing those words fall from Ira's mouth was somewhat surprising - he hadn't realised their conversation at Laketown was staying with her as much as it apparently was. His hand moved to caress her face. Their eyes met, and he smiled. "Why must you always be so..." He sighed. "Human."

Ira smirked. "Because I've got to somehow make up for you."

Alduin shook his head but drew her into his arms again, reassuring himself once more that she was alive.

...

Eleniel huffed as she picked herself off the grass and brushed off some of the loose dirt and grass her clothes had picked up.

"You fight well, Princess," Eomer commented, sheathing his sword.

Scoffing, Eleniel shook her head. "Not as well as I should."

Eomer smiled. "The blade is not your chosen weapon - it is understandable that you haven't focused on perfecting it as you have the bow. With this in mind, you fight very well."

Lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, Eleniel sheepishly admitted, "I grew amongst dwarves, and they are very set in their ways when it comes to teaching royals how to fight. It's been like that for generations - in fact it's become a tradition of sorts. Father insisted I learn as much as possible."

"Anyone should know how to defend themselves," Eomer said. "Not just royals."

Eleniel considered this for a moment. "I've heard of lands in the far East that make weapons training mandatory for two years for every man that reaches... I can't remember exactly; seventeen or eighteen years of age."

"It makes sense," Eomer admitted. "That way any fight that might happen has more people to defend their homes."

Eleniel nodded. "It does, but anyone who doesn't wish to fight has no choice but to do so anyway. The way it is in Erebor, if you want to fight you can, regardless of age or gender. There are some in that mountain who start learning before the age of twenty, which is about six or seven in the ways of men."

Eomer's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "And at what age do dwarves reach maturity?"

"For women it is fifty, and for men it is sixty," Eleniel answered. "Bear in mind also that dwarves live for around two and a half centuries. This is less than a quarter of their lives."

"I wonder why it is that dwarves and men grow so differently," Eomer mused aloud, his eyes alight with curiosity. Clearly his knowledge of dwarves was little.

"They were hewn from the stone itself," the Princess answered with a grin, "and stone is slow to change. I personally think that this is also the reason for their legendary stubbornness and hard-headedness."

Chuckling, Eomer offered up his arm. "I think it's time for lunch, Princess," he said when Eleniel sent him a look of confusion. Eleniel rolled her eyes, but accepted the arm anyway.

"Are you always a gentleman, or are you simply trying to flirt with me?" She asked cheekily. The sound of Eomer's laughter travelled a long way through the camp.

...

Thankfully over her little bout of tiredness, Ira stood by Fili as he questioned the man in his cells. Alduin was stood by the only door in and out of the dungeons, just in case the white haired man were to attempt an escape.

They learned a fair amount about the man, who seemed willing enough to answer the King's questions, even though he was thrown in jail.

He told them his name was Khaled, and that he had grown up on a farm in the middle of nowhere with his parents. Said parents had both fallen ill and then subsequently died when he was fifteen. He told them he continued to live and work on the farm alone, until a year ago when the increased orc and bandit activity had put his life under threat. He abandoned his home and made his way East, where he then settled in Dale. He was twenty-five when he arrived in Dale, and had turned twenty-six four months later.

All of it seemed innocent enough, and yet... Something was still off about him. He was closely watched by several pairs of eyes as he wandered through the mountain to the exit after he was released.

Ira was the last to turn away from him when he began to ride towards Dale. And so she was the only one to see him turn around and stare back at her. She could feel the power behind the stare; it felt like it was tearing through her from the inside whilst also bearing down on her from the outside. Luckily the spell was broken as soon as she averted her gaze.

"Are you alright?" Matryd asked her softly, standing beside the taller woman with her arms placed carefully in front of her. Ira noticed that Matryd's back was ram-rod straight, and she exuded an air of elegance and authority that Ira couldn't help but compare to that of Thorin Oakenshield.

She smiled softly. "I'll be fine," the Dragonborn assured. "We'll be back on the road again tomorrow, anyway. And the open plains never fail to calm me down."

Matryd frowned. "I thought your ability to shift was gone." There was a questioning tone in the Queen's voice.

"Not completely," Ira said. "The Aedra had enough power left in them to provide Alduin and I one last transformation. Out intentions were to use them when we reached the Iron Mountains, but... well, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"So you can no longer shift? At all?"

"No," answered the woman sombrely. "Not until Fankil is slain and the Aedra have their powers returned to them. But Alduin still has his final shift. And I was always more comfortable on foot, anyway."

"Less invincible on foot, too," Matryd noted.

Ira smirked. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" She grinned. "Then again, I haven't survived this long for no reason."

A low chuckled escaped Matryd's throat. "Very true. Very true, indeed."

* * *

**Fino alla prossima volta!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I only own (here it comes) Ira, Ghardaz, Matryd, Eleniel, Carenna and the Aquos. Mac Gustah owns Dwin and family. The rest belong to either Bethesda (those geniuses) or Tolkien (that other genius).**

**A/N: I have no excuse for updating late except for the fact that these last two weeks have gone so quickly I genuinely thought it had been only a week until I saw the date of my last update and was like... 'Oh...'**

**Big thanks to: Pietersielie (for some reason that was really hard to write out), DodgeSavage Truck of Bronze, Redder45, Lutfie,, Dinosaur Imperial Solider and tdy4234 for following/favouriting. You guys are AMAZING! **

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: The Italian sentence was because I'd just come back from my holiday - in Italy. Congrats on the results - STILL waiting for mine. As for when I update... well, that's what time zones are for, am I right, or am I right? As it is, my good Lord Ser Dr Mr count Mac Gustah, count of flanders and Brabant, Captain of the SS Esses, and high priest of Gusthism, with this update of mine tale of woe, I dedicate this chapter to thou, and hope that thou doth enjoy it. That is all... XD**

**gabiey: Yay, thanks :) Here ya go!**

* * *

**Chapter 30:**

The sun provided only a meagre warmth as the citizens, soldiers and lords of Edoras evacuated the city and trudged along the yellowed grass towards Helm's Deep. Already a day of wandering had passed, a camp had been made and then deconstructed come morning, and they were moving again. The civilians were unused to such distance of constant walking, so their speed was slow, and many of the soldiers moved from the tops of their horses to walk alongside family and friends on foot. Yet there was an unease and heaviness in the air that would not fade.

As the second day of their riding drew on, the heaviness increased. By the afternoon, dark clouds had begun to overtake them: a sombre canopy with great billowing edges flecked with dazzling light. The sun went down, blood-red in a smoking haze. The spears of the Rohirrim were tipped with fire as the last shafts of light kindled the steep faces of the peaks of Thrihyrne: now very near they stood on the Northernmost arm of the White Mountains, three jagged horns staring at the sunset.

The people of Rohan were still in the low valley when cries were heard from their scouts over the crest of a hill, and Aragorn came rushing back down but a few moments later.

"Wargs!" He cried, immediately provoking those who could not fight to panic. "We're under attack!" He directed his attention to the King, and motioned to the people. "Get them to safety."

Theoden's grim face flattened out. "All Riders to the head of the column!"

With Legolas ahead, Gimli had no other to ride with, however Ghardaz was swift to swing up behind the dwarf and yank on the reins, forcing the horse to bolt in the direction of the attack. Eowyn was instructed to lead the people further onwards, and while she ushered them on, the Riders grouped together as they reached the crest of the hill.

For a few tense moments, only the sounds of swords being drawn and the muted footfalls of the horses could be heard, before the Rohirrim collided with the orcs and wargs. Whinnies and growls and neighs and whines sounded instantly, along with battle cries and dying screams. It was chaos. Blood danced everywhere, and many men were pulled from their mounts.

Ghardaz received a long slice to the back of his leg, and while his sharp ebony war axes were able to slay the foul beast who caused the damage, the orc of Skyrim could do no more fighting and moving. In a half-seated position, he continued to defend himself whenever an orc decided to approach.

Gimli was quick to dismount the horse once the battle had begun, and while he was swift and effective with his attacks, he was knocked down and then crushed by the corpses of an orc and two wargs, rendering him unable to fight further.

Legolas and Aragorn fought strongly, until a brief scuffle with an orc and warg left Aragorn unable to stop himself from being dragged over the edge of a cliff and into the fast-flowing currents of the river.

When at last the battle was over, the true carnage became apparent. Bodies of men, horses, orcs and wargs littered the ground, blood soaking into the soil. The injured - Ghardaz included - were slung onto horses and were the first to leave the battlefield. They were the ones in danger of losing their lives, after all.

Gimli glanced down at the river that sung below, a frown marring his features. An orc had informed them of Aragorn falling over the edge, and yet there was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not for Aragorn's demise, as such, but for the river itself. He felt as if there was something within the river that he should be conscious of.

"What troubles you?" Legolas asked, appearing beside the dwarf.

"The water," Gimli grumbled. "It hides a secret, I am sure of it."

"A secret? Do you speak of the water-dwellers?"

Gimli's eyebrows rose. "The what?"

Legolas smiled slightly. "I am not surprised you don't know of them. They are a fairly new race, being of the descendants of both Nirn and Arda. They have been named the Aquos by my father's people. Aquos have large fins on their feet and under their arms, and have strange coloured streaks on their skin. They are a mix of argonians and humans, most commonly, but they have been known to be of other heritage as well."

"Why do they live in the rivers?"

"Fish," Legolas answered simply. "The Aquos can communicate with other water creatures." A strange expression appeared on his face. "The Aquos are a compassionate race - they will care for Aragorn's body, as they likely did Boromir's."

"And if by some miracle he's still alive?"

"Then they will guide him to safety, and to help."

Gimli grunted. "And after that, he'd better come back to us. If he doesn't, I'll find him and knock some sense into that royal head of his."

Legolas smiled slightly, but his eyes were distant. "Do not hope to see him again," was all he said, before turning around to join the first o the uninjured Rohirrim in catching up with the rest of Edoras' people.

...

"Are you sure you will not stay?" Matryd queried with a small frown.

Ira smiled down at her. "I'm afraid we've stayed too long already. The longer this takes, the less chance we have of succeeding."

The Queen sighed. "Then be careful."

"Always am," Ira said with a wink, before giving Matryd a quick hug. Barely a second after they'd parted, Ira was barrelled into by an energetic child. She rolled her eyes. "I do need to be able to use my legs, you know," she joked as Carenna clung onto her knees.

The girl shook her head. "You're not going!" She said stubbornly.

"I have to, young one," Ira told her gently, coaxing her to let go. The Dragonborn then crouched down in front of her. "We'll see each other again," she promised bravely. "One day I'll come back here and we'll play for as long as you want. Okay?"

Carenna sniffed, but then nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "But you'd better come back."

Ira grinned. "Yes, my lady." After ruffling Carenna's hair, Ira straightened and then turned to Fili, who had Dwin hovering behind him, and Alduin stood in front of him.

"Keep an eye out for that man," Alduin was saying. "There was something very wrong about him."

Fili nodded. "I will. I should warn you - there are Easterlings who make camp along the route to Dain's land. Chances are they'll attempt to ambush you."

Ira grinned. "Attempt being the key word."

"This isn't something to joke about, Ira," Fili said sternly, and the Dragonborn found herself surprised by the suddenness of his slightly harsh tone. "You've survived a long time because of your skill, but the Easterlings are cunning, and have the advantage of numbers on their side."

"You make it sound like I've never fought in a war before," Ira said sharply, eyes narrowing dangerously. For some reason his apparent lack of faith in their abilities sent a spike of anger through her. "I've had to single-handedly fight over a hundred army-trained men. A few haphazard Easterlings won't pose a threat, especially when I have help at my side."

Fili's eyes widened in shock, then his face flattened out. "I am merely expressing concern for-"

"Don't bother," she snapped. "We'll be fine." She marched herself over to Shadowmere, who was stood patiently beside Alduin's horse. They both had several bags tied to their saddles, and were almost as eager to get going as Ira was. She swung herself onto Shadowmere's saddle before turning to find Alduin's amber eyes staring hard at her. "I'll scout ahead," she told him emotionlessly, before she dug her heels into Shadowmere's flank, and the devil-horse shot forward. The people waiting before the gates of Erebor were quickly beyond sight.

...

"A rider approaches!" The single shout cut clearly through the air, allowing most people in the camp to hear it. Eomer and Eleniel were quick to reach the person who'd called, and they saw with their own eyes the white rider who was approaching with astonishing speed. Eleniel, due to the elvish blood in her veins, had clearer eyesight than that of the men around her, and her eyes widened in shock.

"It cannot be," she whispered to herself. But as the rider drew closer, she came to know without a doubt who it was. Her face lit up. "Mithrandir!" She raced towards Gandalf and threw her arms around him barely a second after he'd dismounted from his horse. Gandalf gave a dry chuckle and gently returned the embrace, before pushing her away.

"Who is in charge here?" He asked her, the urgency in his voice causing Eleniel's mood to drop.

"Eomer," she answered, turning back and nodding to the man. He proceeded to step forward.

Eomer bowed his head. "Gandalf Greyhame," he greeted with respect. "What brings you here?"

"Theoden has put himself and the people of Rohan in peril," Gandalf stated darkly, wasting no time on pleasantries. "He rides for Helm's Deep with the rest of Edoras."

"You are expecting an attack?" Eomer asked, face serious.

"An attack unlike anything the Kingdom of Rohan has ever faced before," the wizard answered. "I fear the thick walls of the Deeping Wall will not be enough to keep the uruk-hai of Isengard at bay."

"Saruman has launched a full-on attack?" Eleniel queried with a concerned frown.

"I fear so," Gandalf nodded.

Eomer frowned. "Surely it would take a number beyond reckoning to claim the fortress."

"Saruman is a wizard," Eleniel reminded him. "When he has set his eye on a goal, he has the power to make it so. If he wants an army of inconceivable numbers, then he will get one. He would never launch an attack unless the odds of winning were in his favour."

"The Princess is right," Gandalf stated. "But he will not anticipate outside help. Rally your men together - we will ride for Helm's Deep as soon as we are ready."

Eomer stared at Gandalf for a long while, before nodding sharply and turning to bark orders to his men. Eleniel faced Gandalf again. "Will we arrive in time?" She asked him.

"We will arrive in time to fight," Gandalf replied. "Whether it will be in time to turn the tides of the battle is what I cannot say."

"Then we must ride with all the speed we can muster from our mounts." The determination in Eleniel's voice brought the smallest of smiles to the wizard's face as he watched her head off to help pack up the camp and prepare her steed for the long ride.

* * *

**If you want a visual reference for what the Aquos would look like, follow this link (without the spaces and such, of course):**

** tinyurl .com (slash) pcoups9**

**Until next time, my friends of loveliness!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclamier: I own all my OCs (got bored of listing them out... having a quite break XD). The rest belong to their respective owners Tolkien and Bethesda.**

**A/N: I'M ON TIME! First time in a while, I know. Sorry for that. Quite a quick chapter, but it's... erm... I'm just gonna go with a bit strange. Alduin/Ira fluffiness towards the end. Thou hast been warned. **

**Big thanks to: sapphire-eyed cat, predatormlr, Chazarok and Shivra88 for favouriting/following. :3**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Yeah, I'm from England, and while it may only be an hour, it could make a difference... And your irrelevant messages were irrelevant indeed, although rather entertaining. I figured the Skyrim lore would be slightly messed with since the Aquos are only half from Skyrim... Does that make sense? And who said anything about saying goodbye to Dwin...? :)... P.S. I don't have that problem :D**

**comet5000: I'm glad you think so (and to be honest I agree with you - been having a lot of crazy conversations, particularly with that fella above ^^^). I'm also glad you're enjoying the story, and thanks for taking the time to review. I don't do it often either, so I truly appreciate it :)**

* * *

**Chapter 31:**

"For Gods' sake, Ira, slow down!" Alduin growled, forcefully ripping Shadowmere's reins from Ira's hands and yanking the stallion to a stop. The black devil horse snorted in protested, but then lowered his head and began chomping at the frosty grass beneath their feet.

"What?" She snapped.

"I could ask you the same," he retaliated coldly. "What's gotten into you? You don't even leave Erebor with a proper goodbye, and now you seem hell-bent on killing the horses."

Ira groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Ira..."

"Just leave it alone!"

Alduin narrowed his eye slightly, before dismounting from his horse and then tying her reins to a small bush. Ira watched him warily as he approached her, and only had enough time only to widen her eyes and loudly curse before he'd yanked her out of Shadowmere's saddle and thrown her on the ground. His arms were forcefully pressed into her shoulders and his knees were holding down her legs before she had recovered from her shock enough to fight back.

"No," he growled, the familiar buzz of power settling itself in his blood as he saw her laid out beneath him.

"Alduin," she hissed, eyes flashing into slits for a second. "Get. Off."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"I don't know!" She shouted, before her fight left her and she sagged underneath him. She repeated it again, quietly, "I don't know."

"If you don't know, why are you getting so worked up about it?"

Ira frowned. "My emotions have been so... erratic." She sighed and looked past him to stare at the sky. For a moment, Alduin's eyes flashed to her stomach. He knew only a little about pregnancy, but wasn't this a part of it? Before he could delve further into that thought, Ira dismissed it. "I think it was my shift," she admitted. "I've spent years without changing once, and my dragon had become... quiet. I think the change has brought it closer to the front of my mind, and so things just make me angry so much more easily." She sighed. "I miss it," she whispered.

Alduin gently trailed his finger through her brown hair, smiling when the locks tugged at his fingers. "We both do," he reminded her. "But you've been through this before - you can get past this."

"I know, but a part of me simply doesn't want to. I want to keep my dragon close, just in case..." She didn't need to finish for Alduin to know what she wanted to say - _just in case we turn out to be stuck like this forever._

Alduin slowly got off her, and Ira sat up with a huff, then started dramatically rubbing her legs with a mock-pout on her face. "Don't let your anger take over," he said simply. "I'd rather we _didn't_ have to walk all the way to the Iron Hills."

"It'll be ten days at most," Ira grumbled good-naturedly.

"And I think we could half that if we do it on horseback."

Ira glared at him. "Are you suggesting we're slow walkers?"

Alduin rolled his eyes. "No," he said with exaggerated patience, "I'm suggesting that riding is faster. Now come on, get up. You said it yourself - the longer this takes, the smaller our chances of succeeding."

Ira blinked. "How in the name of Talos did you hear that?"

Alduin smirked. "I have good hearing. That and you weren't exactly trying to be quiet, were you?"

Ira shrugged. "I guess." She held out an arm, and with another roll of his eyes, Alduin took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Ira smiled sweetly at him and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, before mounting Shadowmere again. She patted his neck in apology for the pace she'd set, but he seemed indifferent to it. Alduin's horse, on the other hand, was exhausted, so they set a much more gentle pace until night fell.

...

"Where is he? Where is he?" Gimli's gruff voice echoed through the cold stone pathways. "Get out of the way! I'm going to kill him!" He stopped before Aragorn, who stood before him, battered, but nonetheless alive. Aragorn glanced down at the dwarf in amusement. "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless man I ever knew." He hugged Aragorn sharply, stating, "Bless you, laddie!" as he did.

Aragorn's good mood turned sombre. "Gimli, where is the King?" Gimli nodded up the steps towards the main fortress, and Aragorn gave him a swift pat on the shoulder in thanks. He quickly climbed the steps, only to run into a slightly dusty elf Prince.

_"Le abdollen, (You're late,)_" Legolas said. He glanced the Ranger over. "You look terrible."

Aragorn laughed slightly and placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder - an action the elf mirrored. Legolas then offered up the silver amulet that Aragorn had been gifted by his love. He took it carefully and spoke softly to his friend. "_Hannon le. (Thank you.)_"

With nothing further to say, Aragorn entered the main hall, where Theoden and a few of his generals and captains were making defence plans. They glanced up when he entered, and their grim locks turned to those of awe, shock, and wonder.

"How is this possible?" Theoden murmured to himself.

Aragorn smiled grimly. "I cannot say for certain. All I know is that I drifted to the banks of the river and there I was found by Brego, Theodred's horse. He brought me back here."

"This is good fortune indeed," the King said gleefully.

"I'm afraid not, my lord," Aragorn said, quickly dampening the mood. "A great host of uruks from the North have been released. They are heading this way."

Theoden frowned. "A great host, you say?"

"All Isengard is emptied."

Eyes wide, Theoden queried, "How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least."

There was a sharp intake of breath that circled the room. Theoden whirled on Aragorn, a look of terror on his middle-aged face. "Ten thousand?"

"It is an army bred for a single purpose," the Ranger stated simply. "To destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall."

Theoden spun around and marched towards the doors, an expression of grim determination on his face. "Let them come!"

...

"_This is the song that never ends,  
__Yes it goes on and on my friend.  
__Some people started singing it,  
__Not knowing what it was,  
__And they'll continue singing it forever just because..._

_This is the song that never ends,  
__Yes it goes on and on my friend.  
__Some people started singing it,  
Not knowing what it was,  
__And they'll continue singing it forever just because..._

_This is the song that never ends,  
__Yes it goes on-_"

"_Please_ stop," Alduin groaned, running his hands over his face in frustration. "Where did you even learn that, anyway?"

Ira laughed. "I've known it since I was about... six or seven. It's a great way to make adults do whatever you want when you're a kid - it annoys them so much."

"And why are you singing it now?"

Ira shrugged. "It's been in my head all afternoon. I hoped singing it aloud would get it out."

"Why would it?" Alduin grumbled.

"It was worth a shot," Ira defended. "Besides, it also got you frustrated - that's a sight I _never_ get bored of."

A loud groan escaped Alduin's lips. "You're impossible sometimes."

Ira frowned jokingly. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

Alduin glared at her, then grabbed her by the hand and pulled her onto the grass, revelling in the startled yelp that left her. Alduin's arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and he pinned her to him, not relinquishing his hold no matter how hard she struggled. "Just stop," he said through a grin. "It won't work."

"That's the second time you've done that," Ira grumbled.

"Perhaps you ought to work on improving your reactions," Alduin teased.

Indignant, Ira retorted with, "My reaction are _fine, _thank you very much. You're just really fast. And I feel like I can let my guard down around you."

Alduin's grin widened. "Oh, you _really _shouldn't have said that."

"What are you- Hey!"

Alduin gripped Ira's wrists and pinned her down on the floor again. He smirked down at her. "Either you really are out of practice or..." His expression became smug and suggestive. "You really like being pinned down by me."

Ira's cheeks flamed pink, but she kept that defiant gleam to her eyes. "I'll have you know this is very annoying."

"Then why do you let it happen so often?" Alduin challenged.

"Because you catch me off guard!"

The dragon raised his eyebrow and then lowered his face to hers, lips brushing the shell of her ear. He felt a shudder run through her body, and felt her heart pick up pace in her chest. "I don't believe you," he whispered.

Ira sighed, but before he knew it she had arched her back against him, grabbed hold of his arms, and used her legs to throw him off balance. As soon as he as unsteady, she pushed with her weight until their positions had reversed. She smirked triumphantly down at him. "Gotcha!"

Alduin's hands immediately settled themselves around her waist. "So what?" He muttered lowly, and before he knew it Ira's thighs had clamped around his waist hard enough for him to feel confined.

The Dragonborn lowered her head so her nose hovered less than a centimetre from his. "So you can stop looking so pleased with yourself." And then her lips crashed down onto his, starting up an entirely different battle.

* * *

**...I'll let your imaginations fill in the blanks where necessary.**

**Until next time!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: I own all my OCs (the long list I've given up on writing out every time). Everyone else belongs to Bethesda or Tolkien, respectively.**

**A/N: Sorry for the slightly late update, but I had a BUSY weekend. At least it wasn't a whole week late, right?**

**Big thanks to: SakuraBlossom221334, TheGreatHetzer, Sturmundsterne and Lune the Twilight Fox for following/favouriting. Means a lot guys, so thanks :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Well, unfortunately for you, no fluff this chapter... Or for a little while now.**

**Mac Gustah: Sorry, no mammoths - I think it's too rainy here right now. As for the, quote, 'arsehole that took the amazing dragon ex machina powers away'... Well, hopefully you'll be surprised when the time comes... That's all I'm giving you. Make your own assumptions *evil laugh* Ahem... XD**

**gabiey: Aww, it's no problem. |Thanks again for the review :) Always makes me smile ^_^**

* * *

**Chapter 32:**

Theoden was stood before the great doors of Helm's Deep, looking up at the battlements above. "I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall," he said to his closest solider, who nodded in reply before disappearing off to do as bid. Theoden gestured with his arm above him. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall, or set foot inside the Hornburg."

Gimli huffed from his position against the stone wall. "This is no rabble of mindless orcs," he grumbled, and the King glanced at him with cold eyes. "These are uruk-hai. Their armour is thick and their shields broad."

"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf," Theoden spat. "I know how to defend my own keep." With no further words, Theoden walked back into the fortress with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli trailing slightly behind. "They will break upon this fortress like water on rock," Theoden declared grandly. "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be re-sown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls we will outlast them."

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people, down to the last child!" Aragorn cried, causing Theoden to stop his powerful stride and turn around, only to grab Aragorn by the shirt and pull him closer.

"Then what would you have me do?" He queried. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

"Send out riders, my Lord. You _must_ call for aid."

"And who will come? Elves? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead," Theoden stated grimly.

"Gondor will answer."

A look of thunder crossed Theoden's face for a moment. "Gondor?! Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell?! Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?! Where was Gon-?" He inhaled sharply. "No, my Lord Aragorn, we are alone." Theoden turned away sharply, barking orders to his men. "Get the women and children into the caves."

"Sire, we need more time to lay provisions for-"

Theoden's reply was without feeling. "There is no time. War is upon us."

...

"I have a bad feeling about this," Ira muttered as she led Shadowmere by the reins through a large bog. Alduin and his horse were a few metres to her left, and they were all picking their way slowly through the reeds and water.

"About what?" Alduin questioned.

"This area," came the reply. "I feel like there's something watching us."

"Fili warned us about the threat of Easterlings," the dragon reminded her.

Ira shook her head. "No, I don't think that's it. Can you not feel it? It just doesn't feel... human."

Alduin paused mid-step, glancing over at Ira, who in turn also halted. "Doesn't feel human? That doesn't really narrow it down – there are only a few human races out of many."

Ira rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean," she grumbled.

"No, I don't, because I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."

Ira let out a long sigh. "Fine then," she snapped, "it reminds me of what it felt like with the balrog chasing us. Satisfied?"

Alduin's eyes widened. "Fankil's orcs."

Ira frowned. "What?"

"Do you remember what Akatosh told us in Sovngarde? He said that Fankil was creating a new breed of orc."

"Orcs with the same traits as balrogs," Ira finished, dread settling over her body like cold water. Her eyes started to swivel around, searching for any sign of danger, but the wetlands were completely bare. Still, the uneasiness did not settle. "We should get a move on," she mumbled, quickly swinging onto Shadowmere's saddle, noticing Alduin doing the same thing in the corner of her eye.

The two of them kicked their horses into a gallop, and they raced through the bog, hooves kicking up mud and water. They were no further than twenty metres from the edge of the bog when Alduin's horse suddenly reared up on its hind legs, neighing loudly in protest. Alduin growled to it in the dragon tongue, ordering it to obey him, but it wouldn't listen. The horse was showing the whites of its eyes as they whizzed about, looking for whatever threat it had detected. Shadowmere stopped alongside the other horse, and though he did not panic, the way he shuffled on his hooves every few seconds made it clear there really _was_ something dangerous nearby.

With a growled curse, Ira swung off Shadowmere's saddle and began grabbing as many weapons off of it as she could, strapping them in various places on her armour. She then gave him a shove in the direction they had come from, and with a loud snort, the devil horse turned tail and ran. Alduin's horse followed a few seconds later.

For a long while Alduin and Ira stood completely still, back-to-back, swords held loosely in their hands. The first sign of attack came in the form of a whistle. Alduin's hand grasped Ira's tightly and he pulled her out of the way, just in time for an arrow to plant itself in the ground, where her foot had been less than a second before. Ira's grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, and she dipped into a crouch, letting her lip curl back over her teeth. She let out a feral snarl, pupils elongating into thin slits. "_**Genun heinmaar, hi firok, (Show yourselves, you bastards,)**_" she hissed.

Though they no doubt couldn't understand her, a large group of at least seventy men, all covered in dark war paint, suddenly sprung up from the ground. They were all wearing clothes of green, brown and black, meaning they blended easily with the grass and mud around them. A cry was let out from one of the tallest of the Easterlings, and the rest charged forwards with battle cries of their own. Ira and Alduin were forced into motion immediately.

The Easterlings were clearly well trained, and their sheer numbers gave them a massive advantage over the others. Each time one was cut down, five more were there to replace them.

As soon as Ira detected a break in the onslaught, she gathered up her Thu'um in her chest and let the Shout fly free from her mouth. "_**Yol Toor Shul!**_" A long line of men started screaming in agony as their clothes and flesh caught alight, and the three men closest to her were incinerated instantaneously.

In the time it took for her to catch her breath however, the enemy had managed to get behind her. Just as she was about to prepare herself for the next onslaught of opponents, a man jumped on her back. On instinct Ira grabbed at a knife tucking into her breastplate and stabbed it into the man's throat, spinning on her heel to dislodge him. But that gave the other Easterlings ideas. Three more launched themselves at her, and in the time it took her to kill one of them, two more had replaced him.

Heart pounding in her chest, Ira let out a frustrated scream as she continued to battle the weight of four bodies on her back and shoulders. This drew Alduin's attention to her, and the sight he saw - his wife being slowly pinned down - caused the entire world to take on a red hue.

With a roar Alduin lunged at the first of the four men, tearing him away from Ira and swiftly slicing his throat. The next came quickly after, by which point Ira was able to grab hold of another blade and use it to kill the final two men. With her body freed, Ira focused on spinning and swiping, her rage driving her faster and harder than ever. Alduin was a whirlwind of steel, fury and blood beside her, and their swords arched in the air countless times as the Easterlings numbers began to fall rapidly.

Within just a few minutes their opponents' numbers had dwindled to just over a dozen, at which point the Easterlings realised the futility of this attack and fled from the area, disappearing from sight after just a few seconds.

Barely a moment later, exhaustion hit Ira like a wave, and she staggered slightly on her feet. Alduin's arms quickly wrapped themselves around her, and he peered down at her with concern.

"Are you alright?"

Ira nodded. "Fine," she let out breathily. "Just a little tired all of a sudden."

Alduin frowned and pressed his hand to her forehead, though it was of normal temperature. "Come on," he said, "we should get going. Don't want those Easterlings coming back with reinforcements."

"Right now, I think the Easterlings are the least of our problems," Ira grumbled, and Alduin raised his head to see what she was talking about. A party of well over three hundred orcs, some who appeared to be on fire, had them completely surrounded, and were edging ever closer. Alduin growled at them and grasped his sword tightly in his hand, but Ira's body didn't seem to want to cooperate, and she could barely lift her sword up above the level of her waist.

She slumped forward even further, and was weakly clinging to Alduin's arm when the first wave of orcs surged forward. Without the physical strength to protect herself - or even hold onto Alduin with a secure grip - Ira was grabbed and quickly yanked away from her husband, before she was dragged out of the battle. She struggled against the restraining hands as best she could, but it was little use.

The last she saw before she was hit harshly over the head was Alduin surrounded by a sea of monsters.

* * *

**Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!**

**Yup, I did it again. Hoorah for cliff-hangers :)**

**Until next time, my lovelies!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: I own my OCs. Tolkien/Bethesda own the rest.**

**A/N: Sorry I couldn't update over the weekend - I was just really busy. It might be that my update day turns to Monday soon... We'll see.**

**Big thanks to: The Chuckinator, eaod2000, Hellion Prime, Zneazul, YullenLover1215 and zpeder for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**gabiey: Thanks :)**

* * *

**Chapter 33:**

Gimli stood leaning against the breastwork upon the wall. Legolas sat above on the parapet, fingering his bow, and peering out into the gloom.

"This is more to my liking," said the dwarf, stamping on the stones. "Ever my heart rises when I look behind us at the mountains. There is good rock here. This country has tough bones. I felt them in my feet as we came here from the battle. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place that armies would break upon like water, as the King so claims."

"I do not doubt it," said Legolas. "But you are a dwarf, and dwarves are strange folk. I myself do not much like this place, and I shall like it no more by the light of day. But you comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you standing by my side with your stout legs and your sharp axe. I wish there were more of your kin among us. But even more would I give for a hundred good archers of Mirkwood. We shall need them. The Rohirrim have good bowmen after their fashion, but there are too few here. Too few."

"It is dark for archery," said Gimli.

"You are not all that familiar with elves if you think mere darkness to be enough to make it so they cannot still hit their target," a gruff voice said, and the elf and dwarf both turned to see a battered and bruised, but altogether healthy orc stomping towards them. At his sides were sat his two axes, ever steadfast and loyal companions.

Gimli huffed out a breath. "It would appear your folk heal well, if you are able to fight in the coming battle."

Ghardaz sent him a grim smile. "My people, much like yours, are not wont to flee from a fight if they have enough strength to raise a weapon. I am not fully healed, but am well enough to fight alongside those of this world."

"Do not make the mistake of fighting beyond your tether," Legolas warned. "Many will die tonight, and it would be foolish for you to fall simply because stubbornness kept you going longer than your body was able to cope with."

Ghardaz grunted. "Do not lecture me with how to fight in a war. I know my limits, and I have not lived as long as I have on luck alone."

"I would hope not!" Gimli said. He let out a wistful sigh. "It is a shame; I feel the need for sleep now stronger than I thought any dwarf could. Riding is tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!"

At that moment Aragorn neared, and he addressed them all with little more than a surprised glance at Ghardaz, who had been immobile in the healing wing not an hour previous. "The King is calling all able-bodied men to be suited up and armed."

"Good," Gimli cried, an over-eager expression on his face. "It's about time we got started - I was beginning to think the orcs would never arrive."

"You will wish they hadn't before long," Legolas promised.

Nevertheless, the four companions set out towards the armoury, drawing the eyes of many hopeless men along the way. Legolas' ears were strong enough that he could hear every cry and sob of the women down in the caves, and each made him wince in sympathy. He could only imagine the fear going through them in that moment - fear of the unknown. They would not know until the battle was over whether their sons, husbands, brothers, fathers and grandfathers had survived the conflict.

Aragorn's brow furrowed when they entered the armoury and saw the gathered men being supplied with axes and spears and swords. "Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli agreed.

"Or too few," Legolas murmured, his voice low. "Look at them; they are frightened! Their eyes show all." His eyes met Aragorn's, cold, stern. "_Boe a hyn. Neled herain dan caer menig? (And they should be. Three hundred against ten thousand?)_"

"_Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras. (They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras.)_" Aragorn countered calmly.

Legolas' brow flickered as the first sense of discomfort revealed itself on the elf's face. "Aragorn, _nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. Natha daged dhaer! (They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!)"_

Aragorn stepped forwards, eyes resolute. "Then I shall die as one of them!" He declared loudly. A stony silence filled the air as the men of Rohan watched the interaction closely. They did not need to understand elvish to know what words were being spoken. Frustrated at the lack of faith in his friend, Aragorn turned away and promptly left the room.

Legolas tried to follow, but Gimli stopped him. "Let him go, lad," the dwarf said solemnly. "Let him be."

...

Anger boiled deep in his system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew all too well it was far too much for his human body to handle. But he didn't care. He didn't care. Fires of fury and hatred were smouldering in his narrowed eyes as he weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to him for causing the bastard that had taken Ira from him the most immeasurable pain imaginable. For the first time in over a decade, his dragon festered close to the surface, writhing, roaring. His eyes were serpentine and had been that way constantly for the better part of two hours as Alduin dug his heels into Shadowmere's flank, the devil horse charging through the grassy lands. For once, they had put aside their distrust of one another; for once they agreed on something; for once they had a mutual goal - to find and free the Dragonborn.

The orc who had taken Ira had disappeared from the battle quickly after it started - Alduin had felt it. The power. The surge of energy that had sucked what little warmth there was in the air and then kept it away. He knew what it meant - some sort of god-like power had transported Ira directly to her destination. But for someone like Alduin, picking up the trace had been all too easy. He himself was a being constructed from the purest energy. He followed the trail the energy had left, and it was leading straight to her. Straight to Ira. Straight into the hands of Alduin's greatest enemy.

He didn't delude himself - he knew _exactly_ who had stolen his wife. Fankil. The very person they had set out to hunt had turned the tables in his favour. For a moment. But what he didn't know was that he had bitten off more than he could chew. A fight with a dragon almost guaranteed death. A fight with an angry dragon left no room for error. A fight with a dragon who had sworn to rip you into uncountable pieces would leave you begging for death in the end. Fankil was completely unaware that he had just signed his own death warrant. And it would be a painful death. It would be brutal, and bloody, and there would be no mercy from his killer.

...

Darkness receded from her eyes slowly, but the heaviness of her mind did not. It remained, leaving Ira delirious and groggy. A groan escaped her lips when she tried to move, only to find her arms were strung up in shackles, and her shoulders were threatening to pop out of their sockets.

She'd seen this type of darkness before - the darkness that filled a cell or a prison room. It was the darkness that accompanied imprisonment.

This room was barely six feet by four - not long enough for her to even lie down straight in. There was a doorway directly ahead of her, but no door. No bars. It was there to mock her - to make her know that she could easily escape this cell, for there was nothing blocking her path, but without the use of her arms, she was trapped. Freedom was so close she could almost breathe on it, but she couldn't stretch far enough to touch it.

A snarl met her ears - the snarl of an orc. Ira returned it with one of her own, her top lip curling over her teeth. The lone orc entered her cell, bearing a look of annoyance as it approached her. Ira didn't give it the chance to do anything. Using her shackles as support she lifted her legs and put her feet on either side of the orc's head. With a harsh twist of her waist, she pushed one foot sharply to the right, and a loud _crack_ echoed in the emptiness of the room. The orc slumped into the ground, it's head crooked.

Within seconds more orcs swarmed into the room, shrieking and growling, but they did nothing more than drag the orc corpse out of the cell.

There was a moment of silence, and then another figure stepped into the cell. It took a moment for Ira to be able to define any features on his face, but when she saw them she let out a hiss.

Pearly white hair. Crystal blue eyes. A young, handsome face.

"You!"

* * *

**Yup. I did another thing. :)**

**Until next week, my friends!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest are either Tolkien's or Bethesda's**

**A/N: So, I was going to post this yesterday, but then The Hunt was on and I didn't get a chance to go back online after that, so... At least this one is longer than the last few have been :)**

**Big thanks to: An Anonymoose, I Love Fairytale Endings and McDragonRider for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: There's a bit of a wait first... :)**

**Mac Gustah: It's fine, it's just good to hear (read) from you again :) As for Fluffy... Maybe Santa will return him to you for Christmas... You never know**

* * *

**Chapter 34:**

"I must admit," Fankil drawled, eyes gleaming in the dim light, "when I saw how you and your mate reacted to me in Erebor I thought all my plans would be foiled. But you're just as blind to the truth as everyone else."

"Why were you there?" Ira spat. "What purpose did it serve?"

"I was examining you," he answered simply. "Measuring up your prowess. I have to say, you impress me. Both of you do."

Ira growled. "You're in deep trouble when Alduin gets here."

"And what makes you so sure he's even alive, hmm?" Fankil smirked. "But even if he somehow did survive my soldiers, this is _my_ territory, and I know it like the back of my hand. He will be in the unknown."

"That's never stopped him before."

"There's a first time for everything," Fankil reminded her with a cruel twist of his lips.

Ira sneered and spat at Fankil's feet. "It won't be now," she told him viciously. "He's going to arrive, and when he does, you'd better run, because otherwise you'll end up as a pile of ash on the floor. _**Hi nis filok hin dinok, banaak! (You cannot escape your death, scum!)**_"

In a flash, Fankil's hand crashed down on Ira's face, whipping it to the side. Ira grit her teeth against the burning sting in her cheek. Fankil laughed heartlessly at her pain, looking down at her as if she was just a child begging him for pity. But she wasn't. Instead of lowering her head she lifted it, a stony glare carved into her dark eyes. Fury blurred her sight, but she tightened her jaw and glared hard enough to kill the dead twice over. It was a look that held such crippling disgust and hatred that, for the briefest of moments, doubt flickered across Fankil's crystalline eyes.

Smugness replaced the doubt almost as soon as it had come. "I've been escaping my death for thousands of years," he announced, moving his face closer to hers, until she could feel and smell his breath on her face. It was unnaturally sweet, and instantly she was repulsed by it. His finger, cold and brittle, stroked her cheek, moving to grip her chin tightly when she tried to wrench her head away from his reach, impossible though it was. "What will your precious _mate_ do when he finds you waiting for him, hmm? When you're my soldier, when you become my servant, when I order you to fight him... What will he do? Will he fight? Will he give in?"

"I'll _never_ side with you," Ira spat. "_**Zu'u fund milaar bonaak dii ruus wey dreh fos hi fun zey wah! (I would rather slice my throat than do what you tell me to!)**_"

"That's an interesting, and bold, statement," Fankil preened, a leering smile on his ageless face. "We'll see just how long that bravado of yours lasts." He tapped his finger thoughtfully on his face. "I would say... no longer than sixteen hours." He leaned in close again, his lips brushing against her ear. "Don't disappoint me, Nahfiliiz."

Ira snarled, but Fankil straightened and swept out of the room before she could curse him to Oblivion, as she wished to do.

She was left alone, and one by one the torches outside her door were put out, slowly making the room descend into darkness. Darkness didn't scare her - the shadows were her allies. Or so she thought. But the fallen Nightingales of old were bound only to Nirn. She was, in fact, alone. Nothing could protect her from... anything.

It started with a slight shimmer, as if the air in front of her was being warped and twisted into something other than air. Then, in a flash of pale, silvery light, a man appeared before her, a man she recognised only vaguely - her memories were a whirl of murky greys and browns which became darker the further back she went. Dressed in the clothes of a blacksmith, with a small dagger at his waist, and a burn scar on his left hand. His hair was difficult to judge, because his whole body was drained of all colour except silver, white and a blue so pale it was almost indistinguishable from the white, but it looked to be brown, and the way it was pulled back behind his ears was... familiar. But why? Who was he?

"You've led an interesting life, sweetheart."

An image in a memory is never secure. But a voice... The memory of a voice goes on for eternity. And this was a voice Ira would know anywhere.

She choked back a sob. "Father."

Ira's long-dead father smiled slightly. "Look at you - all grown up, and more, of course!" He chuckled. "I'm proud of you, my child."

Ira shook her head. "You're not here," she whispered. "You can't be here. This is just a trick of his, isn't it? It's all a lie."

Pain flickered across Ira's father's face, but she refused to believe it was real. "Has it really been so long that you don't even know your own father anymore?"

"I've lived too many lives," Ira snarled. "Seen too many deaths. Heard too many lies and secrets and been deceived too many times. I didn't even recognise you! You are _not_ my father!"

"I am."

"Prove it, then," Ira challenged. "Tell me something only my father would know and say."

He thought for a moment. "When you were nine you tried to sneak into the smithy at night and light the forge. You ended up dropping almost four hundred septims worth of ingots and leather and coal on your little foot. Nearly woke the whole village from your crying. I found you huddled on the floor with your head in your hands, and I pulled you into my arms and said..." He let out a long breath.

"What did you say?" croaked Ira, throat tight. She remembered this day as if it had been only yesterday.

"I said that whatever pain you feel will only ever serve as a reminder of what to do and what not to do. But when you look back on all the pain you've felt in your life, you'll know that you only became as strong as you are because that pain made you fight even harder."

A sob left Ira's throat. It was true. All true. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." Ira's father frowned. "To be honest, I am not sure. All I know is I don't have long with you. So I suppose all I can say from here is continue to make the right decisions and don't let the wrong people delude you. Because you _have_ been deceived too many times. Just be wary of what you see."

"I will. I miss you."

Ira's father smiled softly. "I miss you too, little fox."

Ira's head snapped up when he said that, only to find he was already gone. But it was enough. Ira's father _never_ called her 'little fox'. That was Alduin's nickname for her. That wasn't her father at all. It _was_ a trick of Fankil's. Gritting her teeth in determination, Ira's eyes became hard as the next figure began to shape itself before her.

This one was someone she would never forget - her first infatuation.

The red haired thief smirked at her. "Quite a situation you've gotten yourself into, eh, lass?"

"Shove off, Brynjolf," Ira snapped. "You're not fooling anyone."

Brynjolf's eyebrows quirked upwards. "Who said anything about fooling?"

"I did," came the harsh reply. "I know you're not the real Brynjolf, so you might as well give up and leave."

"Not the real...?" Ira might have believed his confusion to be genuine, but she knew better. He was a master thief in life. He was the same in death. And as a master thief, one thing you know how to do without batting an eyelid is lie through your teeth. "What are you on about, lass?"

"Just. Leave."

A scowl flickered across his face for a moment, his face morphing briefly into something distinctly less human, before he disappeared.

Ira let out a long breath when she noticed that no more 'ghosts' would attempt to haunt her. But it wasn't the end. No. After a few minutes of absolute blackness another form appeared. This one in proper colour, but distorted and out of focus.

Ira's heart dropped into her stomach.

"No. It cannot be."

Slowly, the dragon turned around, amber eyes serpentine. Shock crossed his face, but then Alduin rushed forward and went to grasp her face in both hands, only to have them go right through her.

"Where are you?" He growled.

"What are you doing here? No, I can't... I won't believe it." Ira sobbed. "What happened to you?"

Alduin looked bewildered. "Nothing happened."

"The battle..."

A look of thunder crossed Alduin's face. "I killed every one of those flaming cowards," he hissed, eyes flashing with his fury. "Now tell me where you are."

"You know where I am."

"Then who took you?"

"Khaled," Ira grumbled. "Or, if you would prefer to call him by his real name, Fankil."

A symphony of colourful curses left Alduin's mouth in a stream of both dovahzul and the common tongue. "When I get my hands on him..." Suddenly a perplexed expression crosse his face. "What did you mean 'it cannot be'?"

"Fankil's been trying to trick me by summoning images of people I cared for a long time ago. Dead people. When you appeared I thought..."

"You thought I was dead."

Slowly, Ira nodded. "But they were always just creations of Fankil's. They were never the real thing. There's no way I can believe you're who you claim to be."

"So be it," Alduin muttered, and Ira blinked. None of the others had responded like that. None of them had just accepted her refusal to believe it was real... Perhaps he really _was_ her husband... No, she couldn't afford to think like that. She'd only be hurt. Alduin knelt before her. "I'm coming for you," he promised in a low voice. "Two days at most. Shadowmere is fast when he's determined."

Ira allowed the barest hint of a smile to grace her face. "He's an undead horse," she said by way of an explanation.

"Aye," Alduin agreed. His eyes shifted to the doorway behind her, then he turned back. "I might as well familiarise myself with your surroundings so I know what to look for when the time comes. I'll be right back." He straightened and walked away before Ira could respond.

She let out a weary sigh. Was this the real Alduin? A figment of her delirious mind? Or another of Fankil's fakes? Regardless, his presence calmed her and the small flame of hope in her heart had been kindled into a fire. For the moment, she would allow herself to believe Alduin really was coming after her.

When he returned again, his form was shimmering and fading. "I'm waking up," he said. "It's night-time, so this is all in my head. I'll see you in two days, I swear it."

"I believe you," Ira whispered hoarsely.

Alduin smiled slightly. "I love you, Ira."

"And I you."

Alduin stood and suddenly a strange expression appeared on his face. He opened his mouth to speak again, his words uncertain at first, but becoming more sure as he went on. "You know I am not good with words, so I will keep this short. We have all eternity left to live, and I want to spend it with you, if you will accept me. No man will ever be good enough for you, but I will try, if that is what you want."

Tears sprung up in Ira's eyes. She knew those words. They were the words he'd spoken seventeen years before, on the day they married. "I will accept," she murmured, "only if you agree to spend forever with me by your side."

Alduin's lips curled up at the side, but then he was gone. In that moment, Ira had never felt more alone, but neither had she ever before felt so completely full of hope.

* * *

**Fluffiness galore! And I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get our favourite red-headed thief in there. Good old Brynjolf :)**

**Until next time!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: I own my OCs. The rest are either Tolkien's or Bethesda's.**

**A/N: Okay, so Monday seems to be becoming popular again. Tell you what, just assume I'll update every Monday, and then if I update on a weekend, it6'll be like having an early Christmas gift. Speaking of which; I probably won't be updating again before the 25th, so MERRY CHRISTMAS! Thanks for your support as usual, and enjoy yourselves :)**

**Big thanks to DylanLee98 for following and favouriting :) **

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Haha, it's alright. I wish you a very merry Christmas, my foreign friend**

* * *

**Chapter 35:**

The occasional clink of armour was interrupted by the sound of a horn splitting the air. Ghardaz paused from his job of putting on his battle attire and glanced out the open door, seeing many men running past the doorway towards the main gates. After securing his gauntlets, Ghardaz followed them.

He arrived at the main gates just in time to see a procession of elves turn to face Theoden, who wore an expression of pure astonishment and disbelief. "How is this possible?" He breathed, his voice quiet enough for Ghardaz to have to work out what he said from the movement of his lips alone.

The leader of the group was familiar - Haldir, the Lothlórien elf who had escorted the Fellowship (while it was still whole) to see Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Ghardaz felt his brow furrowing when he looked at the elves. Their appearance baffled him. Why would they leave the safety of their trees to fight a battle that wasn't even their own?

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," Haldir announced to the human King. "An alliance once existed between elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honour that allegiance."

Aragorn stepped forward with a wide smile and greeted the elf, before saying, "You are most welcome here."

Legolas also moved forward, greeting Haldir in the elvish way. Then, he moved to stand alongside his southern kin. Haldir looked at the King with a strange expression on his face. "We are proud to fight alongside men once more."

"Never thought I'd see the day elves came away from their forests to fight in the wars of mortal kind," Gimli grumbled by his side.

Ghardaz huffed. "Their homes are threatened as well," Ghardaz reminded him. "But I too did not expect this of them. It would appear, Master Dwarf, men have friends where they did not think to look for them."

"Well," Gimli grumbled, "let's hope it makes a difference. I don't feel like having my head placed on a spike."

Ghardaz smirked down at him, tusks pressing against his top lip. "You'd be dead by that point - you wouldn't even notice."

"That doesn't mean it's any less appreciated," huffed Gimli, before the two grinned at each other and slapped the other's back. "It's good to have you fighting with us," the dwarf said. "Another friendly face can only help."

"I wouldn't miss this fight even if you chained me down and sat a dragon on me."

"That's the spirit! I can't wait for my axe to taste orc blood once again."

"You have little time to wait," Aragorn said, appearing behind them very suddenly. "They are nearing."

In the distance a great mass of black was approaching, the sound of footsteps like rolling thunder as it echoed through the valley. Torches lit up the army, showing off its sheer size.

"Let us hope we live to see the sunrise," Ghardaz grumbled.

"I'm sure we will," Aragorn answered, but the reassurance in his voice was feigned. He did not believe they could win this battle. And Ghardaz, for all his fierce bloodlust, was inclined to agree.

"I suppose only time will tell," he said in the end.

...

The Iron Mountains rose before him, 18 strong peaks all glistening with snow as the moon rose higher above Alduin's head. And within one of them was his wife, a crazed God-like creature, and an army of mutant orcs. And he, a furious dragon with more that a little bone to pick, was intending to take down anything or anyone who obstructed the path to Ira.

Shadowmere snorted and tossed his head, slowing his speed before taking a sharp turn. Both man and horse were being led by an unseen force of power, however Shadowmere seemed to be more acutely in tune with this power. He was following an invisible trail towards one of the closest mountains which was still almost a day away.

An epiphany of sorts struck him then, and Alduin gave Shadowmere's reins a harsh yank. The horse protested, trying to continue, but Alduin held firm. Eventually the devil horse stopped, and Alduin swung from the saddle.

Unaware completely of how it had taken him this long to come to the conclusion he had just reached (he assumed it was his rage-addled mind) Alduin lifted his head and called out to one of his oldest allies, one who had been in hiding for near two decades, but who, Alduin knew, would come to Ira's aid no matter what the threat turned out to be.

"_**Od Ah Viing!**_"

The Shout was one of the more powerful, and the ground trembled beneath his feet. The vibrations rocketed up the mountains all around him, causing small avalanches of snow.

It took almost a full five minutes on frustrated waiting for Alduin to spot the red speck in the distance, but the relief that crawled its way into his head was enough to quell his ire at Odahviing taking so long to arrive. The red dragon roared a greeting, before landing heavily in front of man and horse. Shadowmere snorted, eyes narrowed at the dragon, who in turn gave him a harsh look. Shadowmere, it seemed, did not get on well with _any_ dragons, except Ira.

"_**Druv lost hi bel zey het? (Why have you summoned me here?)**_" Odahviing questioned, looking more than a little irate.

"_**Hi lost kosaan tul fah lingrah ganog, (You have been still for long**_** enough,)**" Alduin growled. "_**Ira lost kosaan poltor, ahrk rek lost kosaan kuz kotin gein do daar strunmah. Zu'u fen ni bo nau tiid waan Zu'u wundun nau pahrk uv naal key. Zu'u praag hi wah bo zey til. (**_**_Ira has been captured, and she has been taken into one of these mountains. I will not arrive on time if I travel on foot or by horse. I need you to fly me there.)_**"

Odahviing's hostility seemed to lessen when Alduin mentioned Ira was in trouble. "_**Who has taken her?**_" He asked in the common tongue.

"A creature by the name of Fankil," Alduin supplied. "He is also the one who has been the stealing the powers of the Eyra and thus the one who has halted our transformations. The Eyra have enough power only for one more transformation."

"_**Then why not go after her yourself?**_"

"I am unaware of the extent of their power," Alduin explained. "I don't want to risk shifting back to being human before I even reach the mountain. I will shift when we arrive. Not to mention, the additional help would not go amiss."

Odahviing scowled at his former master, but obeyed nonetheless. "_**Zu'u fen dreh ol hi laan, nuz dahmaan Zu'u dreh nii ni fah hi, nuz faal Dovahkiin. (I will do as you ask, but remember I do it not for you, but the Dragonborn.)**_"

"I would expect nothing less," Alduin replied, before grabbing hold of Odahviing's horns and swinging himself onto the dragon's neck. He glanced at Shadowmere who was... glaring rather viciously at him. "Head back to Edoras," the dragon instructed. "With luck, Ira and I will meet you there."

Shadowmere snorted and sent him one last resentful look, before he turned around and galloped towards the south. Alduin tensed his muscles to ensure he didn't slip off the dragon's neck as Odahviing launched himself into the air, flying swiftly towards Ira. Alduin felt himself relax with the knowledge that there was no faster way he could get to his wife, and there was now another dragon at their side. Victory was guaranteed for them now.

...

The darkness now was becoming irritating. It felt like there was a blindfold over her eyes, and no matter how much she wished her eyes would adjust, they didn't. There was absolutely no light at all.

Except, suddenly, there was. An orange glow from outside her archway was growing brighter and nearer, and Ira's eyes ached at the sudden shift in the light. They groaned and moaned, and Ira had to blink several times for them to settle enough for them _not_ to send bolts of pain into her skull.

Ira was expecting an orc or two to come into her cell, but was surprised when Fankil himself entered. He looked... well, he looked less than pleased. Probably because she was still very much in her right mind. And maybe he'd caught wind of the fact Alduin was almost at his door step.

"I see you've managed to withstand my manipulation," he sneered.

"I find it quite insulting that you thought I wouldn't realise what was going on," Ira sneered.

Fankil raised an eyebrow. "Clearly you are above even _my_ expectations. Luckily for you I won't be making that mistake again. Only this time, I'll have more flesh to play with."

Ira's face faltered. "What?"

Fankil grinned, icy eyes gleaming in the light of him torch. "Oh, don't you know? Your _husband_" - he practically spat the word - "is coming here. And not without finesse, I must add."

The entire mountain suddenly shook, and while Ira was secured to the wall, Fankil stumbled slightly. His face hardened.

"I know what that was," Ira muttered, eyes alight with excitement. She grinned at Fankil, who was looking a little put-off. "Run, little God," she mocked, "run away and don't look back. Else you'll never live to see the sun."

Fankil growled and stalked towards her, grasping her chin tightly in his hand, drawing his face close enough to hers that she would have worried he was going to kiss her if he were anyone else. His face twisted into the most convoluted smirk Ira had ever witnessed. "When this is all over, I promise you you'll be _begging_ for death before the end."

Ira's lips curled upwards. "Oh, no," she whispered. "It won't be me who's begging for mercy when the end comes."

...

Fankil's mountain was one of the smaller ones, for which Alduin was immensely grateful - it would make traversing through it a lot easier. The ride to the mountain had been only a few minutes, however in that time he had told Odahviing what to do. It was quite simple: Odahviing would barge in through the front and create a distraction while Alduin went in search of Ira. Luckily for him that trail of magic was still tangible, and so he followed it easily enough along a serious of bridges and paths created - no doubt - by dwarves of long-dead generations.

He could hear the carnage Odahviing was creating ringing and thundering in his ears, the cries of a feral beast and the screams of the dying orcs. But he knew numbers could overwhelm even a dragon, so he had to be quick.

Alduin's daedric sword was loose in his hand, its razor-sharp edge reflecting the light dull light that came up from above, from the burning bodies of Odahviing's enemies, and from the fire the dragon expelled.

No number of twists and turns proved to disorientate Alduin, and he moved with all the purpose and power he could muster in that moment. He could feel the anticipation building in his gut - Ira was drawing closer. After spending months on end with her as his only constant companion, having her not by his side was... strange. And he didn't like it. The fact she was in danger only proved to make that strangeness feel even worse.

Alduin turned another corner, only to suddenly pause. Before him was a corridor he recognised. During his very... unusual visit to Ira, he had left her little cell to take note of the area around it. And this was definitely the same corridor. With that purpose reared its head, Alduin rushed forward, turning the last corner to see...

Fankil.

He was lounging against a wall, picking at his nails. A heavy broadsword was strapped across his back, replacing the bow he'd had when visiting Erebor. And by his side, wearing all her armour with the sword _he_ had gifted her, was Ira.

Her hair vaguely resembled a bird's nest, and her arms were shackled above her head, just as they had been earlier in the night. Despite all the things wrong with her, and the not-at-all veiled frustration in her eyes, she looked perfectly fine.

Fankil pushed away from the wall and stood directly in front of the Dragonborn, blocking her from Alduin's view. It was a technique meant to both annoy him and subdue him. Any attack Alduin made now had a chance of causing Ira harm. Alduin knew as well as Fankil that Ira was both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

Without a word, Fankil slowly reached over his shoulder and drew his blade, holding it in one hand, the tip of the blade balanced on the ground. He made no move to attack, and that immediately put Alduin even more on edge. Not even the crashes and roars coming from Odahviing could penetrate his focus on Fankil.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to show up," Fankil drawled, sending Alduin a crooked grin that had him clenching his jaw. "Ira and I have been getting _very_ well acquainted in your absence."

"Oh yeah," Ira muttered sarcastically. "Because you not being here is _totally_ interacting, isn't it?"

Fankil rolled his eyes. "Each of those apparitions were of my creation, ergo, I was with you the whole time."

"Except one time," Alduin said. Fankil's eyes turned confused, and the dragon pushed his advantage. "I visited her a few hours ago. Clearly without your knowledge."

"That's impossible," Fankil snapped.

Alduin grinned. "The Eyra work in mysterious ways. You have not yet drained their power so much that small tricks like that are not possible for them to achieve."

Fankil's face began to splinter from its cool calm. "You're lying."

"No," Ira said. "He's not. You're overpowered here, Fankil, even if you did have the upper hand for twenty years. You have nowhere to go."

Suddenly Fankil's bravado returned, along with an evil smirk. "Oh, don't I?" And with that, a strange blue flame lit up his hand. With one last smug grin send towards Alduin, he turned around and pressed two fingers firmly against Ira's forehead. Her eyes shot wide, her back arched away from the wall, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Then, in an explosion of bright light, her entire body became consumed by the blue flames.

* * *

**Cliff-hanger. I bet you love me right now ^_^**

**Until next time!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: Did I mention I'm on Christmas holidays now? MERRY CHRISTMAS FOR TOMORROW! Yep, I got another one in before Christmas. Feeling proud (and also slightly ill, which is a bummer, but, you know, life's a bitch).**

**BIG thanks to: Lets Random, Ash-Gabrielle and The Allseer for favouriting/following.**

**Review Response(s):**

**gabiey: It's fine - nice to have you back ;) Merry Christmas!**

**Ny'Kle: Rage works in two ways...**

**Mac Gustah: You, my friend, are crazy... Just sayin'. Also, Eyra is the dragon language word for Aedra, so they're the exact same thing :3 (P.S. There's a mammoth traipsing around town at the mo - could it be yours?). Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Also, I'm keeping Fluffy. No hard feelings and all that, but... you know... mammoths are cool.**

**Pietersielie: I am so sorry, my shame is just... completely non-existent. On the plus side, torture over :) Merry Christmas!**

* * *

**Chapter 36:**

The uruk-hai army stretched before them, calling out war cries and bashing their weapons on their shields. The men of Rohan, along with the elves of Lothlórien and the remnants of Lord Elrond's Fellowship of the Ring, were stood still and silent on the battlements of Helm's Deep, watching the uruks as they flaunted the vastness of their army.

Aragorn, having become a commander of the army of men, was walking among them, offering no words of comfort, however his presence alone brought with it a sense of reassurance.

Ghardaz was stood on Gimli's left, holding his dual war axes in hand, ignoring the steady throb of his wound from before. On Gimli's other side was Legolas, who was holding onto his bow. Their dwarf friend was... having a slight problem with the battlements. "You could have picked a better spot," he grumbled, unable to see over the stone due to his height. Aragorn suddenly appeared behind them and stopped, looking over Gimli's head at the large force that faced them, snarling and roaring. Gimli glanced up at him. "Well, lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Legolas turned and offered the man a weak smile. "You're friends are with you, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded grimly and walked away without a word, his face hard. Lightning sudden flashed across the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Ghardaz' face twitched slightly when the first drop of rain hit his skin, but was otherwise nonchalant about the unexpected weather. The rain fell slow at first, bouncing off the metal armour everyone wore, before quickly becoming a heavy downpour that made the armour of both armies sing in challenge to one another.

Ghardaz pursed his lips. "It's as if the Gods themselves have picked their sides," he grumbled.

"Maybe they have," Legolas replied. "Middle Earth is their world - perhaps this war is serious enough for it to become necessary that they intervene."

Aragorn's voice suddenly called out from further along the Deeping Wall. "_A eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!_ (_Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none!)_"

Gimli tried to jump to see over the wall, then turned to snap at the elf in his frustration. "What's happening out there?"

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas asked as rain dripped off his face, a smile twitching onto his lips. "Or would you like me to find you a box?" Gimli laughed, though Ghardaz couldn't say for certain if it was genuine.

With a silent order, the men and elves defending Helm's Deep loaded their bows and drew them back, ready to fire. For a few tense moments the army was still, but then one of the soldiers loosed his arrow and it landed in the neck of an uruk. A clean shot, Ghardaz noted idly, but fired at the wrong time.

"_Dartho!_ (_Hold!)_"

The uruk fell to the ground, dead. The others growled ferociously at the death of their ally. The captain uruk, who was stood tall above his army, thrust forward his weapon and hollered, and the uruk-hai advanced upon the fortress at a run.

The battle for Helm's Deep had begun.

...

The moment Ira's body was engulfed by the bright blue flame, Alduin let his rage take over. He launched himself forward, sword slicing effortlessly through the air, and Fankil had only just enough time to dodge out of the way. He scrambled for his heavy blade, and then lowered into a defensive crouch, blade held up by his ear. He sneered.

"You are a helpless, _puny _creature," he snarled, eyes suddenly blazing red.

"And you are a fallen maia trapped in a mountain," Alduin retorted, unfazed by the insult. "Nowhere to run. No one to receive help from. It is just you and I." The aching desire for vengeance rose in his heart, and he swung again, not giving Fankil enough time to prepare before he launched a second attack that hit Fankil's shoulder, Alduin's blade sinking two inches into skin before Fankil twisted away, crying out in pain.

He dropped his blade and then more of his feral appearance came to light. His skin became a grotesque grey, his hands became clawed, his feet stretched and grew, resembling the talons of a bird of prey. His clothes melted away, only to be replaced black armour made of a strange metal Alduin had never seen before. Shadows started to morph and shift around him, until Fankil was framed by writhing darkness. His eyes started to glow, and his teeth lengthened until they were as sharp as knives.

An orcish snarl left Fankil's lips, and he sprung forward, claws outstretched. Alduin could tell as he spun out of the way that the wound he had inflicted on this creature was limiting the movements in one of his arms. Alduin slashed down with his sword, only for his blade to bounce off the metal armour as if he had struck stone.

Fankil turned and was about to attack again, but then he stilled and straightened, a smug, toothy grin appearing on his face. Behind him, Alduin noticed the blue flames were shifting, indicating movement. Slowly, dreading the sight he was about to bear witness to, Alduin turned.

Ira's eyes were glowing, just like Fankil's, but they were blue. Her hands were wreathed with blue flames, and her armour was starting to glow red from the heat coming off of Ira's form. It started to get scorched and burnt away, leaving uneven holes, showing her skin underneath.

Ira flexed her hands, and suddenly the shackles that were binding her to the wall opened with a snap. Slowly, and with all the grace and elegance of a Queen, the Dragonborn rose. Her face betrayed no emotion as she held her hand out. As if controlled by some unseen force, her sword shot into her waiting palm.

"Behold," Fankil said, his voice now gravelly, "the _true_ power of you Father's kind. The power of the Aedra in her hands, and in mine. She is my servant now. She is bound to my will." An air of finality coated Fankil's voice when he said, "Kill him."

Without further encouragement, Ira sprung forward, her sword singing as it whipped through the air. Alduin's own blade rose to meet it, and the two swords locked together. Ira's face was burning hot, and Alduin's could feel his skin sizzling with the intensity of the heat. Only his inborn dragon kept his skin from blistering.

"What has he done to you?" Alduin murmured sorrowfully even as he began to use his weight to push Ira back. A snarl left her lips, and she suddenly spun away, causing Alduin to stumble slightly, only to then get kicked - _hard_ \- in the back. He landed in a crouch, and raised his sword, desperation crawling at his heart as he fought to find a way to bring Ira back to herself.

"_**Hin**__**oblaan los lov, kul do Bormah**__,__** (Your end is near, son of Akatosh,)**_" Ira snarled, stalking closer. Alduin, in that moment, was struck by a strange sensation. It was as if his entire body was being taken over. Power flooded his limbs, and he when he stood, his body acted of its own accord.

Alduin's lips moved, forming words he himself would never think of. "_**Ko hin klov los ulfah do viidost. Nii fen ag hin hah. Nii fen kroved hin hil. Krif nii. Gunaar tol malur do hi. Dreh ni vos nii wah imaar hi. Hi los in do hin suleyk. Krif nii! (In your head is a creature of poison. It will burn your mind. It will corrupt your heart. Fight it. Crush that part of you. Do not allow it to control you. You are the master of your power. Fight it!)**_"

Ira blinked, and the light in her eyes started to recede. From behind her, Fankil snarled and stretched out a clawed hand to her, but in a whirl of movement too fast for Alduin to properly see, Ira had spun, caught Fankil's wrist, and threw him against the wall. Fankil was still recovering when Ira grasped hold of one of his wrists and snapped it into one of the manacles on the wall. The other was quick to follow.

Feeling the power in him die down, Alduin slowly got to his feet, sword limp in his hand. The blue flames surrounding Ira's body faded, and she let out a weak breath as her body slumped, completely drained. Alduin darted forward to catch her, ignoring the writhing figure of Fankil as he fought against his restraints.

Ira's bleary eyes met his, and she let out a soft smile. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Alduin frowned. "For what?"

"I wasn't strong enough."

Shaking his head, Alduin said, "No one could have fought off his power. Do not beat yourself up about that."

Ira smiled sadly, but shook her head. "Not that," she muttered, before she weakly grabbed his hand and pressed it against her far side. Alduin's eyes widened when he felt the hot, sticky blood that was seeping from her body. "Turns out Fankil has sharp claws," she croaked, attempting to make a joke of the situation, but her voice was weak and carried no conviction whatsoever. Ira's bloody hand stretched out to cradle Alduin's face. "Finish what I started," she whispered. "Perhaps the Eyra will prove powerful enough to accept me in Sovngarde when the time comes."

Alduin's hands held Ira's face, eyes desperate. "You are _not_ going to die, you hear me? I won't allow it."

Ira laughed breathlessly, the fire in her eyes starting to fade. "When have I ever done as I was told?"

Alduin's eyebrows pinched together, pain filling every inch of his body. This was not the same pain he was used to. This was not the same sorrow he felt for others. This was debilitating in its agonising strength. His heart felt like it was enclosed in a cell of ice, aching to be let go, only to instead be torn in two. "Don't give up, dii lokzii do dinok (my angel of death), I beg you."

Eyes lifting to the ceiling, Ira frowned slightly. "We had plans," she mumbled. "We were going to settle down, raise a family." Her lips pursed, and then she let out a weak whisper. "I don't want to miss that." She turned her head, and her eyes suddenly were ablaze again, the determination roaring through her veins. Alduin grinned, and she grinned back. "End it," she said, voice firm. "Perhaps the Gods will be merciful to me - perhaps they will allow me to indulge in my selfish wants."

"We have a world to save first," Alduin reminded her.

The Dragonborn let out a dramatic sigh. "There's always _something_."

Alduin pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, before slowly standing, picking up his sword as he went. His anger returned in full as he gazed at Fankil, cloaked only in his human body, who had his head lowered.

"It would seem my end has finally arrived," Fankil muttered. He snorted. "About time."

A particularly loud and violent rumble shook the mountain, and Fankil raised his head as dust and small stones began to tumble from the roof above his head, but Alduin did not move. His dragon was bellowing out in his veins - it could sense its freedom was near. It wanted to be on the front lines when it happened.

"For all the power you have, all the pain you've caused," Alduin seethed, his voice biting and harsh, "you truly are just a petty, _puny_ creature. You are nothing more than an ant beneath my boot."

"And you are nothing more than a mindless beast that makes play he's a God," Fankil snapped.

"Oh no," Alduin growled, crouching down before the fallen maia who glared resolutely at him. "That is what _you_ are." He smirked. "There is a reason your previous _Master_ left you to rot in these rocks. You are nothing. Not to him. Not to anyone. And now you will die the death you deserve." Standing, Alduin arched his blade with all the strength he could muster, and Fankil's head went flying across the room. Instead of blood, a rainbow of yellow, pink, purple and blue shot out from his body, gushing out before it dispersed into nothing.

Then came the rush. The power. The energy. Alduin felt it fill his bones, felt all his injuries and aches burn away as if they were nothing. His body felt like it had been born anew. By his side, Ira steadily climbed to her feet, eyes ablaze with fire. She grinned wickedly at him.

"Let's go kill some orcs," she said, before she raced out of the room and threw herself off of the closest ledge. Alduin followed, feeling the comforting crack and groan of his bones as his body lengthened, his skin hardened, and wings sprouted from his back.

He let loose a roar that shook the earth for miles around, and the orcs beneath his quailed in terror as two more dragons fell upon them in a flash of fire, talons and raging fury.

* * *

**Did anyone notice the references in this chapter? I'll give you a hint: Star Wars and the Avengers. I've watched both really recently.**

**Merry Christmas to you all, my lovelies, and, as always, until next time! :)**


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: I own all my OCs. The rest belong to either Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: Well, a Happy New Year to you all, and a gift chapter where half of the Fellowship is reunited. Yay :)**

**Big thanks to: cmre, Wolfy553, AnimeMangaLover35 and greatorian for favouriting/following.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Mac Gustah: Haha, actually the Star Wars reference was Ira's brief use of the Force in her strange, mind-controlled moment. And the Avengers thing was about Alduin being a 'mindless beast' - it's what Loki says about Bruce Banner. Anyways...**

**jsun25: That is so true, and yet when I read that for the first time I was also quite creeped out by it... Not sure why.**

**Pietersielie: I'm glad you think so :D**

**gabiey: Thanks ^_^**

* * *

**Chapter 37:**

The darkness clawed at both sides of the skirmish as uruks tried to climb the battlements of Helm's Deep, and the men tried desperately to keep them at bay. Gimli stood alone on top of the wall, swinging with wild precision at the oncoming enemy, by some miracle having not been hit by an arrow yet.

Legolas kept swapping between his bow and his daggers, sometimes having to withdraw completely from the fight in order to refill his quiver with arrows. Several times now had he needed to replenish his stock, and the battle seemed to be going ill for the free men of Rohan.

Ghardaz' injured leg was proving a large hindrance, as he had taken many blows due to his inability to dodge in time. Still, he remained standing, his berserker rage helping to lessen the effect of his enemies' attacks.

"How much longer must we go on?" Legolas called out, ducking a stray attack before using his dagger to slice through the stomach of the attacking uruk.

"Their numbers fall quickly," Ghardaz replied, swinging both axes at once and decapitating two opponents simultaneously.

"Not quickly enough, I fear," Legolas muttered, only for a shout to draw his attention.

"Legolas, shoot him! Kill him!" Legolas looked down below, where a single orc was approaching the stone wall with a lit torch that sparked pink and orange and yellow, fizzing with magic. Trusting Ghardaz and Gimli to guard his back, Legolas drew an arrow and fired, however the uruk managed to avoid the worst of the blow, stumbling only a little from the heavy impact. Legolas was just reaching for his second arrow when a loud roar shook the ground, followed closely by another, one which resonated far deeper in pitch.

All over the battlefield, uruk, man and elf alike stood still, confused at the sudden and unexpected noise. Out of the blackness came a burst of fire, which arced over the fortress and hit the uruk-hai army, incinerating many in one blast of heat. The uruk holding the lit torch was one of those hit, the torch being destroyed in the process. Legolas looked up to see two shadowed forms, each with large wings and a lethally sharp tail flying above their heads, before two more large jets of flames escaped their mouths, decimating even more of their enemies.

"I do not believe the sight before me," Legolas heard an older man mutter by his side. "Dragons!"

"Prepare to fire," Theoden ordered loudly over the cries of the two armies.

"No!" Aragorn and Legolas both called out together, racing towards the King who stared at them as if they had gone insane.

"Those dragons are on our side!" Aragorn said, looking up at the sky just as the larger of the two dragons dove towards the ground and used its sharp claws to knock over a large group of uruks, who were now crying out in fear.

"They have yet to attack us, it is true, but we cannot run the risk of them turning against us," Theoden snapped.

Legolas shook his head. "It is not that, my lord," he said. "Those dragons are members of our Fellowship. Or were, before they disappeared to complete their own task."

"It would appear they succeeded," Aragorn commented idly as he watched the two dragons weave around in the air, sometimes pouring fire and ice from their maws, sometimes using their claws and tails to take out large numbers of uruks.

It took only a minute before the uruks started to flee. The smaller of the dragons turned and focused on those furthest from the fortress, while the large remained, sending attack after attack at the bulk of the uruk-hai army.

Gimli and Ghardaz both appeared then, the former acting as a support for the latter, whose leg was leaking blood.

"It would appear those two have found themselves again," Gimli said, just as both dragons dove to the ground simultaneously and flew low enough that their bodies and wings sliced at the uruks, cutting down countless orcs in seconds.

Theoden whirled on Aragorn, eyes ablaze. "Elves I can understand. Dwarves too. But dragons? What magic are you using to bring so many to your side?"

"They are not full-blooded dragons," Aragorn said calmly. "They are shifters; able to change between dragon and man. They set off with us from Rivendell and ventured through Moria and into Lothlórien in our company. It was there we went our separate ways, and they headed North to the mountains of Dain Ironfoot."

"And yet here they are," Theoden stated, apparently choosing not to believe Aragorn's story. "Why go North at all if their intention was only to come back South?"

"Their Gods were falling to a creature of evil," Legolas supplied with ice in his voice. Theoden's sudden lack of faith in them caused ire to grow in his heart. "They sought out this creature with the desire to destroy him and in turn save their Gods. In doing so their own abilities returned, for they have each been unable to shift for the last fifteen years."

"They may have had other things to do," Aragorn continued, "but their loyalties still lie with the Fellowship. They told us of their intentions to return to us once they had completed their task."

Theoden was apparently still suspicious and dubious, but a sudden crash that vibrated through the earth itself drew his eyes away towards the battlefield. Legolas turned also, and saw that the uruks were all destroyed, either burnt corpses or bloodied limbs or simply piles of ash, but all of them lay dead. Amongst them all were the dragons, who looked alike in the darkness of the night.

A silence fell over the valley, one that seemed to fill every crack and crevice in the rocks and stone all around them, and yet at the same time seemed so empty of everything. The dragons were still, their eyes on the fortress.

Gimli growled. "Open the gate," he instructed loudly, "I'm going out to meet them!"

And his orders were followed. With a groan the great doors of Helm's Deep opened, and out stomped the dwarf. Ghardaz, Aragorn (who picked up a flaming torch as he passed it) and Legolas followed swiftly after, each eager to reunite with their friends and to share the stories of their successes and failures.

Nothing but the heavy breathing of the beasts could be heard from them as four of the original twelve from Rivendell stood in front of the dragons.

Aragorn was first to speak. "You have returned far sooner than expected."

The smaller of the two dragons spoke, revealing herself to be Ira. "We were somewhat pressed for time."

"I see you were successful either way," the Ranger said, eyes crinkling as he smiled at them. "Welcome back."

Alduin growled. "Where is everyone else?"

"We split not long after we left the Golden Wood," Legolas informed them. "We met a pack of orcs from Isengard by the Falls of Rauros, and everything fell apart from there. Boromir fell in the skirmish, and Merry and Pippin were taken by the orcs, for what purpose we are still unsure, though we fear that Saruman knows a hobbit bears the Ring. Frodo and Sam continued on alone, and the rest of us went after the halflings."

"And Eleniel?" Ira growled, a dangerous tone to her voice.

"She is alive," Legolas assured her. "She is with the Rohirrim, not far from here."

Gimli huffed. "And that blasted wizard, no doubt."

Both dragons drew back a little in their surprise. "Gandalf lives?" Alduin queried in disbelief. "How?"

"He himself seems to believe it is because he still has a purpose on Middle Earth," Aragorn stated. "He died, as we all thought, but he was brought back."

Ira huffed. "He has an uncanny ability to disappear and reappear when it is least expected of him."

"Much like yourselves," Ghardaz stated. "Your help was timely, to the say the least."

Ira grinned, showing teeth that glinted in the light of Aragorn's torch. "You're welcome." And with those words her body shrunk down, her scales shifting to form her armour, and the brown haired, blue eyed woman they knew best stood before them. She smiled and then embraced them all in turn. She paused in front of Aragorn, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "You are accepting your title," she said, eyes gleaming with pride. "You have accepted the mantel of leadership, and as a result your heart is beginning to accept who you are." She patted his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Estel."

Aragorn smiled. "Thank you, although I am not sure I am ready for quite a role to be placed on my shoulders quite yet."

Ira snorted. "It's been on your shoulders your whole life, you've just suddenly taken notice of it." She turned back to Alduin. "Look, I know you like the body but it's antisocial. Shift and we'll meet these men of Rohan."

Alduin gave her a look that could only be described as stony, but he shifted as told. Legolas didn't fail to notice Aragorn's raised eyebrow. The two shared a look, and they silently agreed that _something_ had changed between the two of them, even if only something minor.

"You must tell us your tale," Legolas said as they began to head back towards Helm's Deep, where the army of men were still watching them. Mostly likely with expressions of severe disbelief on their faces.

"We will," Ira promised, "but first I want a bath, something to eat, and a tankard of ale."

"I think that's something we all desire," Gimli said with a laugh. "Unfortunately I suspect the first priority will the clearing the battlefield of corpses."

Ira shrugged. "That seems easy enough."

"Without burning the rest of the valley," Aragorn said quickly. "We will pile them up and burn them then, as is usual. I think these men have seen enough dragon fire for now."

Ira pouted, but then her expression brightened when Gimli asked about the whereabouts of Dwin. "He's with his wife and son in Erebor," she answered. "Fili has made him his personal guard."

"That should keep him out of trouble for a while," Alduin grumbled good-naturedly, and Ira laughed.

"Don't count on it," she said. "You know what he's like once his duties are done for the day - straight to a tavern for a pint or ten."

"He'd better be on the lookout for angry wives, then," Alduin retorted with a grin, and the two shared a laugh while the rest looked on in confusion.

Ira waved them off. "I'll tell you later," she promised. "Right now, I think it's time we met the esteemed King of Rohan. I hear he's something to behold."

"Don't tell _him_ that," Gimli grumbled. "He was convinced that the two of you deserved arrows in your throat."

"Wouldn't anyone?" Alduin challenged. "Dragons don't tend to pick sides, and instead work only to further their own goals and desires."

"True, but he remained against you even after we assured him of your allegiances."

Ira shrugged. "Not then end of the world - I find humans have a natural distrust of us anyway, even in our human bodies. It's as if their subconscious mind knows we're dangerous."

Gimli shook his head and started grumbling under his breath in khuzdul, but eventually let the subject drop. The party of six entered the fortress together, looking rather strange with their different heights and armours, but at the same time they looked like the tightly knit group of friends that they were. And when they approached the King of Rohan, it was as if the entire world had fallen silent to hear the words about to be exchanged.

* * *

**Minor cliff-hanger type thing...**

**Yeah...**

**Until next time! :)**


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: Wow... We had hailstones the size of my finger earlier - it looked like snow. Made driving a bit difficult, but overall it was quite amazing.**

**Big thanks to ROWDYKADEN and slender mane for favouriting/following.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Ooh, yeah. Those two are gonna be so weird the rest won't know what hit them ;) Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but still...**

**Mac Gustah: I liked your poem - it made me laugh when I reached the end bit, so nice one there ;)**

**jsun25: Yeah, I think orcs are weird, and when they go berserker it's like they're having an out-of-body experience or something. Crazy...**

**gabiey: Well, here you go! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 38:**

King Theoden wore a hard expression when the six warriors entered the main hall of the fortress. A few injured soldiers were being treated, moaning and groaning as the healers darted from patient to patient.

While the others stopped, Alduin and Ira continued walking until they were just a few feet from the King, and then they both slightly bowed their heads to him.

"I believe I owe you thanks," Theoden said, though the reluctance was clear in his tone. "You have saved many lives tonight."

"It was nothing," Ira said with a smile, taking over the talking, as usual. She was far more diplomatic than her husband, who was quick to anger when he had little patience for a subject. And diplomacy was not a strength of his, anyway. "And we would do it again in a heartbeat. This world belongs to those who are free, not those who would enslave any who opposed them." She smirked. "Besides, any friend of the Fellowship is a friend of mine. If you have been deemed worthy by my friends, who am I to say otherwise?"

Theoden stared at her for a long moment. "What is your name, child?"

Ira laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't call me that - I can promise I'm at least ten times your age. And my name is Ira."

Theoden's eyebrows rose. "The Dragonborn?"

Sighing, Ira nodded. "Yes, although I still can't believe that title still applies - I haven't killed a dragon for decades! Centuries, even!"

"The Dragonborn is a creature of legend," Theoden supplied. "And thus most children know of you. It is an honour." He ducked his head.

Ira waved him off. "Don't bother - Talos only knows how long I've been trying to return to some semblance of normalcy." She paused, pursing her lips. "Is there anything I can do to help? The injured? Repairs?"

"Your help will be appreciated wherever it's needed," Theoden replied. "However I think you will be most useful helping to gather the orc bodies. They outnumber us at least fifty to one. It will take a long time for all the bodies to be gathered."

Ira grinned. "I think we can speed things up a little."

Theoden smiled dully. "It would be much appreciated."

...

With the help of the two dragons' large claws, the uruk bodies were gathered in a large pile within the space of two hours, and a quick blast of dragon fire had them burning to ash. By this time the sun was beginning to show its first golden rays over the edges of the valley, and the citizens of Rohan had been ordered to prepare for a long journey back to Edoras. Ira helped when and where she could, but she was not a healer, and she did not know how to help the citizens, as she herself was not a citizen of... well, of anywhere. She moved about, and so she didn't remember how to behave in a place where she belonged. She had no such place to call her own. But one day... One day she might.

"You look as if you've been turned completely back to front," Aragorn said as he moved to stand beside her. His hands were stained with blood - clearly he had been helping out in the healing rooms.

Ira smiled slightly. "A lot has happened since we last saw one another," she said evasively.

"I've noticed - you and Alduin both have been acting strangely. But in a good way - it looks as if something has happened to draw you closer."

The Dragonborn was quiet for a long moment, watching the bustle of families as they scrambled for their things, waiting patiently for the command to leave the fortress. It would not be long now - apparently they waited on the arrival of Gandalf and Eomer, the King's son. "We want to start a family," she said at last, breaking the silence. "Once this is over we're going to just... stop."

Aragorn's eyebrows more or less disappeared into his hairline. "I've never heard you even mention a desire to have children before."

"That's because I've never thought about it before," Ira admitted. "I mean, sure, when I still thought I was mortal I dallied over the idea of finding a husband and birthing my own children, but then the whole 'end of the world' thing came along and after that I gave up on the idea. I adopted two children in the end, thinking I could at least partially make my dream but... before long they aged and withered and died, while I remained like stone - cold and unchanging. After that I promised myself I'd never put myself through the same pain again."

"And then you met him."

Ira smiled. "Alduin and I are both dragons - we are both immortal. So our children would be to. It changed things. Made things easier. Call me selfish but I don't want to have to bear the pain of burying any more of my children."

"That's not selfish," Aragorn muttered. "It's what any man or woman would hope for. Death is never easy. The deaths of those who died before their time is even harder."

"It's funny," Ira said distantly, watching a little girl chase after an older woman with a shining red apple in her little palm, "the thought of those I love dying is terrifying and painful, but at the same time I would never wish immortality upon them. It seems as if we can never be happy either way."

"Immortality certainly seems to have its drawbacks."

"Especially if most of the people you know are mortal," Ira added with a grim smile. "I've seen many generations come and go in my life - after I lost the first few friends to old age I stopped making so many. It doesn't make it much easier, though."

A horn suddenly echoed throughout the valley, bouncing off the mountain walls. Everyone collectively moved to look at the borders of their refuge, where an army of several hundred - if not a thousand or two - horsemen were parading into the valley. At their head, atop a gleaming white horse, was none other than Gandalf. To his left was a broad-shouldered man with a helmet and long tresses of blonde hair, and to his right was the lithe, elegant form of a woman, whose red hair shone like fire in the morning sunlight.

"Eleniel," Ira breathed.

Aragorn smiled encouragingly at her. "Go," he said. "I've no doubt you're the first of us she'd like to see."

Ira grinned at him, before running up to the tallest set of battlements. Everyone stopped and stared as the woman raced past, then flung herself over the edge. With no pain or pause her body shifted and Ira took to the air as a dragoness once more. The Rohirrim army paused in its march, though no arrows were loosed or even drawn.

The front three riders moved ahead to meet Ira as she landed heavily before them, unable to resist the urge to stretch to her full height and taking pleasure in how the sight caused many faces to drain of blood.

"It would seem Fankil is vanquished," Gandalf declared grandly, looking up at her with that familiar glint to his eye.

"And it would seem you are too great for death," Ira retorted calmly, smirking at the surprised man at his side. "And you must be Eomer, the nephew of King Theoden. I have heard many things about you."

"And I you," he replied warily. "Though to see you with my own eyes is very different to hearing about you from the experiences of another." Here, he glanced at Eleniel, who had by this point dismounted her horse and had an expression of impatience on her face.

Ira chuckled at her goddaughter's frustration and shifted back. Before she could even regain her bearings a light, lithe body barrelled into her. Laughing again, Ira stumbled back a step to ensure she didn't fall over, and then eagerly returned the tight embrace.

Eleniel pulled away, the relief on her face taking Ira by surprise. "I spent the whole time you were gone thinking I was never going to see you again," the young elleth said, answering Ira's unspoken question.

Ira smirked. "You should know better than to doubt me, Eleniel."

Eleniel gave her a flat look. "How many times did you nearly die?"

"Now why would you-"

"Ira."

Ira chuckled. "You're like a scolding mother sometimes - I'm five and a half centuries older than you, it really should be the other way round." She sighed. "Well, we were attacked by orcs in the Greenwood and again on the way to Erebor. We were then attacked by Easterlings about half way between Erebor and the Iron Hills, followed very quickly by a bunch of mutated orcs who then kidnapped me. Then there was the time when I was set alight by magical blue flames. So that's... five times."

"You forgot the time when you fell off a bridge in Erebor," Alduin said, suddenly appearing beside her and making Ira jump.

Ira shrugged. "Didn't even get scratched."

"You did almost get killed though," the dragon pointed out. "You got lucky, is what happened."

Once again, the Dragonborn shrugged. "I had faith."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Your so-called faith almost failed you."

Ira's eyes narrowed, completely forgetting their conversation had an audience. "What do you mean?"

"My Father visited me while you were sleeping the night after it happened," he told her. "He said they had only barely managed to gather enough power to make you shift. Do you know how far you'd been from the ground when you'd shifted?" Wordlessly, Ira shook her head. "Eight metres."

Ira knew she had been close to death that day, but she had no idea she was _that_ close. For a moment, pain filled her as she thought of all she would have missed out on. What she might still miss out on. For the first time in her life, Ira felt the price she could possibly have to pay simply because of her recklessness. Her eyes began to itch, and she glanced up at Alduin and spoke two words that meant more than they seemed to at surface level. "Forgive me."

Alduin shook his head and took her face in his hands. "There is nothing to forgive," he told her, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. "Just don't do that to me again."

Ira let out a dry chuckle as she was pulled into a warm embrace. "No promises," she replied, mainly because she knew that some habits were incredibly difficult to grow out of.

It was then that she remembered the army of men before them, and she turned her head without pulling out of the embrace to see Eomer looking a little awkward, while Gandalf and Eleniel were both smiling. Gandalf's smile, however, was twisted more into a smirk, and Ira shot him a look. He knew something the rest of them did not.

"What happened to you two?" Eleniel asked, that smile still present. "You're the same yet at the same time... so different."

"A lot can happen in the space of a few weeks," Alduin said, letting go of Ira, only to then slide his arm down her body until it sat at her waist, holding her gently against him.

Gandalf chuckled. "More so than you can imagine," he said, and Ira frowned. She wasn't sure if he was directing that at Eleniel or Alduin. That knowing smirk was still present.

"Alright, Gandalf," she said sternly. "You know something. What is it?"

He chuckled again. "Ah, but that would be telling."

Ira groaned. "Wizards," she muttered under her breath. She then turned to Eomer, whose expressionless face was back. "Well, I do believe your uncle wishes to see you."


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to their respective owners.**

**A/N: Hello, I'm back, and my mock week is over! It was hellish - a week sitting on uncomfortable chairs has left we aching all over. But, at least that gives me an excuse to do nothing but read and write. Here's Chapter 39 which is extra long compared to the rest! Oh, quick note - I'm almost at 30,000 views, so thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this :)**

**Big thanks to tycoonracoon for following and favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**jsun25: Haha, my thought exactly. Dragons are temperamental enough as it is... A dragon with added hormones... *shudders***

**gabiey: Glad to hear you're still enjoying it! Thanks for the constant support :)**

**ROWDYKADEN: Hehe, I'm glad to hear it X)**

**Pietersielie: I loved your little metaphor there - made me smile every time I read it :) Thanks! (Also, I will provide you with no spoilers).**

* * *

**Chapter 39:**

By midday they were moving back to Edoras. While Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Ghardaz, Eomer and Theoden went towards Isengard, Ira and Alduin stayed to protect the women, children and surviving soldiers. As usual, the two were largely ignored, and some people even shied away from them, but they didn't mind - it meant more privacy.

The faint chatter of the people of Rohan was soothing to Ira's ears as she walked hand in hand with Alduin, simultaneously watching the people whilst also scanning their surroundings for potential threats. Luckily so far there had been nothing but breathtaking grasslands and distant mountains to see.

"Where do you think duty will call us next?" Ira asked, taking the chance to admire Alduin's sunbathed, strong jaw and sleek, black hair. It had been too long since they'd had this comfortable calm in their lives.

Alduin hummed thoughtfully. "No doubt closer to Mordor," he answered. "I'd imagine people will want us to make use of our powers."

Ira frowned. "Why do you think Gandalf urged us to stay here? Why not go to Mordor straight away?"

"I'd imagine he is concerned that the war in Rohan is not yet over, and they are in the most immediate danger. It is best if we are on hand to join in as soon as possible." Alduin smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to Ira's temple. "Relax, lokaal. Everything will sort itself out eventually."

"I just feel we could be putting our abilities to better use, that's all," Ira admitted. "I feel... constrained."

"As do I," Alduin told her, "but we have to put the safety of the masses above our own comfort."

Ira chuckled. "I still find it strange to hear you say things like that - it seems only yesterday that you would have liked nothing better than to fly overhead and deal out fire and blood and anguish. And now look at you - protecting the people you once thought to be your enemies."

"I have you to thank for that," he said with a smirk. "You taught me humility."

"Correction," Ira commented with a grin, "I taught you anger management. Amy taught you humility." And for the first time in almost eighty years, saying Amicitia's name and thinking about her did not bring crippling pain, but a sense of ease. Amicitia was in the stars above them, and she was safe from this war. She was at peace, and Ira was finally able to accept the fact. She smiled softly, recalling all the fond memories she and her twin had shared. "I love you," she said to Alduin suddenly, out of the blue. It just felt like the right thing to say.

Alduin squeezed her hand and smiled down at her, amber eyes gleaming. "And I you, Lady Ira."

Ira scowled. "Way to ruin the moment."

"Formality appears to be your greatest weakness," Alduin jested, gently prodding the end of her nose. Ira slapped his hand away.

"It's especially bad when it's my husband who addresses me so... candidly," grumbled the Dragonborn, with something that looked suspiciously like a pout growing on her face.

A small voice suddenly came from below them. "E-Excuse me, sir, miss...?"

They both looked down to see a boy of about twelve standing before them, nervously fiddling with his fingers as his wide, brown eyes stared imploringly up them.

"Yes?" Alduin asked, not unkindly, although he clearly thought this boy had interrupted something important. Ira squeezed his hand in order to reassure him she didn't mind, whilst also to remind him to be nice.

"A-Are you two the d-dragons?" He stuttered out, no long able to meet their eyes.

Ira smiled and knelt down in front of him. "Look at me, child," she said softly. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise." Slowly, the boy's nervous face met hers. Ira's smile widened in an attempt to soothe the boy. "Now, what is it you want?"

The boy swallowed, shuffled anxiously on his feet, then squared his shoulders and said, "Can we have a ride?" Ira's eyebrows rose into her hairline. The boy turned meek again. "I-I-I mean, y-you don't have to. W-We were just wondering if perhaps-"

"Who is 'we'?" She asked, breaking off his rambling.

"My friends and I," he said. "Maybe a few others. We're all just kids - no older than fourteen." Ira smiled at his subtle attempts to persuade her.

She stood and took a step back, before she allowed the heat to flow through her veins as her body shifted, growing to several times her height and even more times her width.

By her side, the still-human Alduin chuckled. "I think that's a 'yes'," he told the boy. "Why don't you go and get these friends of yours?"

With an eager nod, the boy scampered away. It was easier for him to find his friends (plus a few others) because the whole procession had come to a halt the moment Ira had shifted, each person turning to watch and see what would happen. While she waited, Ira took the chance to stretch her body, extending her legs, tail and body as much as physically possible.

It was then that a gathering of seventeen children - most no older than about ten - came running up to her, shrieking and laughing excitedly, eyes shining with youthful innocence and wonder as they stared up at the large dragoness. With a slight hum, Ira lowered her large head and waited patiently for each of them to climb up her neck and onto her back. Whenever one of the smaller ones struggled, Alduin would step in and give them a boost. Ira noticed as the last of the children clambered onto her back that there were many parents watching nervously. She could understand that, but she knew the children would be fine - she'd once flown three days without pause with a heavier load, and none of them had even begun to slip.

When the last of the group were settled Ira crouched down and pushed off the ground, spreading her wings and using their length and strength to catch the wind. She drifted higher slowly, letting the children experience the most of the sensation. There were a few gasps and laughs and there were even a few 'wow's as Ira suddenly shot off forward, keeping her body flat as she circled the people of Rohan.

"Lady Ira!" One of the children, a little girl with long, curly blonde hair, shouted. Ira hummed in response. "Will you roar for us?"

"Yes, do it!" Another cried.

"Please, Lady Ira."

And then, as one, they started letting out little 'please's, and Ira couldn't help but chuckle. "_**You certainly are a curious lot,**_" she said, before obliging, letting out a mountain-shaking roar that caused her company to go wild. They cheered and waved their hands, only to suddenly cling to her scales again when the strong wind threatened to unseat them. A wicked plan suddenly formed in Ira's mind, and she stopped, turning to face Alduin. "_**Alduin, horvutah! (Alduin, catch!)**_"

Ira then flicked up her tail and picked up the oldest of the children, before flinging him towards Alduin, who, in a second, shifted into his dragon form and rose into the air to catch the screaming child on his back. The child, realising he wasn't a flattened mess on the floor, began laughing, and the other children on Ira's back did the same.

Alduin flew up to Ira's side. "_**Tol lost rutkei truk wah dreh, (That was a dangerous thing to do,)**_" he said sternly.

Ira gave him an innocent look. "_**Zu'u lost pahsunaal hi fund ni vosmah mok, (I knew you wouldn't drop him,)**_" she said, her tone highly defensive.

"_**Aalkos, (Perhaps,)**_" Alduin allow, "_**nuz Zu'u fund tovaak hi dreh ni unt tol ontzos. Ok lafaan grozah ofaal gefaas do niist laas. (but I would suggest you don't try that again. His parents likely just received the scare of their life.)**_"

Ira hummed. "_**Yes, I suppose you're right. Come on, we oughtn't not delay any more, else Gandalf and the others will arrive in Edoras before us.**_"

The two dragons flew back onto the ground and landed gently, before allowing the children to slide off. There were many expressions of thanks before they rushed off to have more fun or babble incessantly to their parents. Ira and Alduin both shifted, relishing silently in the rush of power that flooded through their veins, before they took the other's hand and began walking again. They were a little way into the crowd of people before everyone else got over their shock and copied their example.

Alduin put his lips to Ira's ear and whispered, "I'm not sure if we made them trust us or fear us even more."

Ira chuckled. "I'll be honest," she murmured back, "I'm happy either way."

Alduin grinned. "That's the dragon in you speaking," he said.

Shrugging, Ira glanced up at the sky. "I don't care which part of me it came from," she responded, looking back at him, "it's still true." She then grinned. "Perhaps I should be 'borrowing' your title from you, Oh Mighty God of Destruction."

Alduin laughed. "Something tells me the title 'Ekrah do Lakif' would be more suited for you."

Ira stared at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in her surprise as she stopped dead in her tracks, causing Alduin to stop as well. Then, she scowled. "Excuse me," she started, but Alduin cut her off.

"You cannot deny you have a certain fondness of causing trouble." He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

"I can and I will!" She protested vehemently, eyes ablaze. "I do _not_ cause..." she sneered the next word; "mischief."

"Then what was that?" Alduin waved his hand in the air, pointing out her little stunt with throwing the boy.

Ira pouted and folded her arms over her chest. "It was just a bit of fun."

"Mischief," he corrected playfully, amusement swimming in his eyes.

Ira was silent for a long time, staring at him hard, before she let out a long breath which sounded very much like a sigh of acceptance. "Alright fine," she allowed, "I enjoy making people panic sometimes. It gives me a power rush."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Honestly, lokaal, _when_ are you going to grow out of your childishness?"

Ira copied him, rolling her eyes. "I'm not the only one who enjoys the occasional show of power, am I?"

"No," he allowed, "but you and I do it in very different ways."

Ira shrugged. "Details," she dismissed. "You still like teasing me."

"I tease you when you're childish."

Ira had nothing to say to that. She simply scowled at the smirk on his lips and let out a frustrated huff. "I though women were supposed to be the ones who were better at arguing."

Alduin chuckled and wrapped his arm around her, and Ira allowed herself to be tugged to his side. "You're far from an ordinary woman though, aren't you, dii mal ilit."

Ira smirked, letting the nickname slide. "Damn right I'm not. And I don't want to be either."

"Good," he said, the approval clear in his tone. "Because no wife of mine is ever allowed to be normal."

"You make it sound like you're going to have more than one wife."

Alduin groaned. "Now you're putting words in my mouth."

Laughing, Ira patted his chest in reassurance. "I was just joking, lokaal. No need to overreact."

"You bring out the best and worst in me," he grumbled.

Ira grinned. "As if you don't do the very same thing." She then went onto the tips of her toes and pressed a quick peck to his lips. "Now, come on," she said, taking his hand again and dragging him forward, "we're falling behind."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours - you called me the Goddess of Mischief."

"You were the one to hand me the opportunity," he pointed out.

Groaning, Ira put her face in her free hand. Through said hand she said, "Let's just agree we're both to blame."

Alduin laughed and gently squeezed her hand. "Alright," he said.

...

Merry sprang to his feet, clad in a travel-stained cloak of the same hue and shape as the companions of Gandalf. He bowed very low, putting his hand upon his breast. Then, seeming not to observe the wizard and his friends, he turned to Eomer and the King.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" He called out. "The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be here to welcome such honourable guests."

"Doubtless he would," laughed Gandalf. "And was it Saruman that ordered you to guard his damaged doors, and watch for the arrival of guests, when your attention could not be spared from plate and bottle?"

"No, good sir, the matter escaped him," answered Merry gravely. "He has been much occupied. Our orders come from Treebeard, who has taken over the management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."

"And what about your companions? What about Legolas and me? What about Aragorn and Ghardaz?" Cried Gimli, unable to contain himself longer. "You rascals, you woolly-footed and wool-pated truants! A fine hunt you have led us on! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling - and smoking! Smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!"

"You speak for me, Gimli," laughed Legolas. "Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine."

"One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits," said Pippin, speaking up for the first time. "Here you find us sitting on a field of victory, amid the plunder of armies, and you wonder how we came by a few well-earned comforts!"

"Well-earned?" Gimli repeated with incredulity. "I cannot believe that."

"You will be pleased to hear, Masters Took and Brandybuck," Gandalf said, changing the topic of conversation, "that your dear dragon friends have returned."

Pippin sprung to his feet in an instant, feast forgotten, a look of childish delight on his face. "They succeeded in their quest?" He asked.

The wizard smiled and nodded his head. "Indeed they did. Their timely arrival at the Battle for Helm's Deep saved countless lives."

Merry grinned. "It will be good to see those two again - we have both missed them dearly, and often have our thoughts strayed to those two. We wondered what they were doing and where they were. I must admit we were at times more concerned for them than you." He suddenly frowned. "Where are Frodo and Sam?"

"They ventured on without us," Aragorn supplied. "By all rights they should be in the Kingdom of Darkness by now, unless for some reason they were waylaid or diverted."

"I do hope they are alright," Pippin said.

Gandalf chuckled. "Take comfort in the knowledge that we do not know where they are - if we did, it would be because they had been captured by the Enemy and all hope would be then lost. Sam and Frodo are both alive, of that I am sure."

"And I am relieved to hear it!" Pippin cried. "But come, no doubt you are here to speak with Saruman, and Treebeard has told us to permit you entry."

"Be warned, though," Merry said, "he has power to his voice, and he will likely try to enchant you to his side."

"Your warning is appreciated," Theoden said. "I would bid you enter Isengard with us, so climb aboard two horses and we will go forth into the waters of Isengard."

Pippin and Merry joined Aragorn and Eomer on their horses, and with no further words the King of Rohan rode into Isengard with his company following behind.

* * *

**Et voila!**

**Until next week, my readers!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs**

**A/N: Hi :) I don't really have anything else to say, so just... hi.**

**Big thanks to: Gunther Riechwald, Dragon Man 180, Grank and Zackjames101 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**jsun25: Haha, you know, I've wondered the same thing many times. There are a good few fics out there that explore it - maybe you should give them a look.**

**Pietersielie: I'm glad you enjoyed it. As for them going to Isengard, I thought it'd be pretty difficult to get quite so many people going there, and also, it's always bugged me that the citizens were just kind of left without much protection on the way back to Edoras. And what better protection is there than two massive dragons?**

**gabiey: Thanks, as always :)**

**ROWDYKADEN: Ummm... I don't know? I just let the words flow, really. I've been writing for a long time, though, so maybe that's it. :3**

**Mac Gustah: Good to have you back, my friend. As for the French... You do realised you signed off by saying 'welcome madam', right?**

* * *

**Chapter 40:**

Eomer stared up above him, eyes narrowing as they drifted higher and higher up the tower of Isengard - Orthanc. Saruman stood above them and, as promised, his voice held a mythical power to sway those of weak will. For a moment, Eomer himself was tempted by the voice, before Theoden's own cut through the haze that had covered his mind.

"We will have peace," said Theoden at last, thickly and with an effort. "Yes, we will have peace," he said again, now in a clear voice, "we will have peace, when you and your dark works have perished - and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me, and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold. Even if your war on me was just - as it was not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired - even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there?" He sneered. "When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm."

Saruman's rage was what followed, his voice harsh compared to how it had been only moments before, and Eomer felt disgusted at himself for falling prey for such lies. "Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame?" The disgraced wizard's face was difficult to see from so far below, but Eomer could imagine the sneer on his lips. "Let me guess. The key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the keys of Barad-dûr itself along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

Gandalf's voice was calm when he answered. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

"So, you have come here for information," Saruman said slowly. "I have some for you." In his hand was a great, black stone. Eomer shuddered inwardly at the aura stretching so far from the stone - it seemed to pierce his skin and invade his very soul. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die." Gandalf and Shadowfax shifted closer to the tower. "But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough," Gimli grumbled. "Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob."

"No!" Gandalf argued. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!" Saruman directed a bolt of fire at Gandalf. Eomer tensed as the flames flickered, but then they cleared, revealing Gandalf to be unharmed.

Gandalf looked weary. "Saruman, your staff is broken."

As said staff disintegrated in a shower of sparks, a familiar, dark figure crept out from the shadows to stand by Saruman's side.

"Grima!" Theoden called. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

Saruman scoffed. "A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you Theoden, horse-master! You claim glory where there is none to take!"

Theoden ignored the wizard. "Grima. Come down. Be free of him."

"Free? He will never be free!"

Grima glared at Saruman. "No." His voice was low, full of malice and hatred. Eomer knew, in that moment, what Grima intended to do. He couldn't find a scrap of will in his mind to stop the fool.

Saruman spun around. "Get down cur!" His hand hit Grima on the side of the face, and the man fell down with a cry. Eomer grit his teeth, wanting this to just be over with.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called. "You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

Saruman faced Gandalf. "You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!"

Grima rose up behind Saruman and, before anyone could do anything to stop it, he thrust his knife twice into the back of the wizard. Legolas was quick to fire an arrow at Grima, who fell dead as the point pierced his heart. Saruman collapsed and tumbled over the edge of the tower, falling, falling, until he landed on the spire atop a water mill.

Gandalf sighed, seemingly overcome by the burden of the ages. "Send word to all our allies and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free. The Enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

Treebeard, the living, breathing tree-herder, used his great arms to roll the wheel, moving Saruman's body out of view as it sunk beneath the water. "The filth of Saruman is washing away," he said after a moment, his deep voice rumbling through the air. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees. Wild trees."

"Pippin!" Aragorn suddenly called, and Eomer turned to see the small hobbit was wading eagerly through the water. He knelt down and pulled the dark stone from the water. Eomer flinched as that dread filled him again.

"Bless my bark!"

"Peregrin Took," Gandalf said, moving forward on his horse. "I'll take that my lad! Quickly now!"

Pippin hesitated a long moment, before he slowly passed the stone up to Gandalf, who quickly hid it from sight. The dread in Eomer's stomach dissipated.

The nephew of the King turned, expecting to find Eleniel next to him, only to remember she hadn't been with them when they left Helm's Deep. His brow furrowed as he realised that she hadn't said she'd go with Alduin or Ira, either. In fact, she'd said nothing at all.

He raised his head to see Aragorn, Theoden and Gandalf all gazing at him curiously. "Eleniel," he said. "She is not here. And I do not think she is with the people, either."

Many eyes widened as his words hit home. "Then where could she have gone?" Aragorn murmured.

"Possibly nowhere," Theoden said. "She might have stayed at Helm's Deep, though I cannot begin to imagine for what purpose."

"Eleniel has gone East," Gandalf said, "at my request."

"Why?" Aragorn questioned angrily. "Why not tell us of your plans?"

"Because I knew you would try to stop both me and her, and that was not something I could risk."

Eomer narrowed his eyes. Eleniel had become a good friend of his - almost like a second sister - and he was not happy at Gandalf's plan. "What is her task?" He asked coldly. "Will she come to harm?"

"There is always that possibility," the wizard stated calmly. "But Eleniel is capable of taking care of herself. As for her task... She is to find Frodo and Sam and continue with them to Mordor. I have done what I can to keep an eye on them, but there is only so much far-sight can do, and they are not far from entering the Black Lands. Once there, they are beyond my reach. Eleniel will be needed if they are to succeed."

"Ira will not be happy," Aragorn said gravely.

"Ira was the one to suggest it," Gandalf told them, with something of a smug smile on his face.

Aragorn's face showed his intense shock. "She is sending her goddaughter into great danger!"

"She is saving Eleniel from the sight of war," argued the wizard sternly. "This war is _not_ over, and Ira feels it her duty to protect Eleniel from its harm. A slightly skewed way to do so, perhaps, but her logic cannot be flawed. It is for everyone's benefit that she find Frodo and Sam."

"You should have put more faith in us," Aragorn stated darkly, eyes narrowing. "We would not have stopped her if only you had _explained_."

"There was no time," Gandalf said, and just like that, the conversation was over, and they were turning around to head back to Edoras.

...

Ira's voice, cheerful and light, danced through the air as she walked in a large group of excited children. They wanted to hear of her own legend, so, with slight irritation (that very quickly faded) she sang the song of the Dragonborn.

"_Our hero, our hero  
Claims a warrior's heart  
I tell you, I tell you  
The Dragonborn comes_

_With a Voice wielding power  
Of the ancient Nord art  
Believe, believe  
The Dragonborn comes_

_It's an end to the evil  
Of all Skyrim's foes  
Beware, beware  
The Dragonborn comes_

_For the darkness has passed_  
_And the legend yet grows_  
_You'll know, you'll know  
The Dragonborn's come_

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin  
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_  
_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan_  
_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal_."

The children around her cheered and then started dancing around her, recreating the song in tune, just without the words. Alduin walked several paces behind them, trying not to get dragged into the group. Currently, he was succeeding.

"That was my son that you caught," a rough, male voice said, and Alduin turned to see a man with a broken arm standing slightly behind him.

"I assume you're talking about Ira's little stunt from earlier...?" The man nodded, and Alduin sighed. "For that, I apologise. Sometimes she simply doesn't know when to stop."

The man smiled. "It's alright," he said. "The lad enjoyed it overall, even if he was scared to start with. And no harm came to him."

Alduin felt his lips quirking. "Something tells me his mother would not think so."

Laughing, the man nodded. "That's why it's me here, not her. You'd probably get an earful, and with a woman of your own no doubt you get enough of that already."

Alduin chuckled. "Surprisingly, it's usually _me_ giving _her_ the lecture, rather than the other way around."

The man considered that for a moment. "I suppose that's plausible," he muttered, and Alduin couldn't help but grin. "Either way, thank you for giving the children some enjoyment - after the battle, that's something they need in abundance."

"You should be thanking Ira, not me," Alduin said, nodding in front of them at where Ira was currently being jumped at by several different kids. Several war-cries escaped their mouths as they tried harder and harder to drag her to the floor. Alduin laughed at the exasperated look on her face whenever she had to fight another off. Unfortunately for him the laugh drew Ira's attention his way, and with a wicked grin she murmured something to the kids.

In moments half of them had split off and were instead trying to drag him down. The man by his side was laughing, as was Ira, even as she continued to fight off her own assailants. Alduin grinned wickedly as he saw the stone on the ground directly behind her, and the sudden change in his expression caused her step to falter. This cost her dearly. With a yelp Ira kicked the stone hard enough for the leg to buckle, and then the weight of the children finally brought her down.

By the time Alduin had joined her, having lost his own weight because the kids had run off to join the pile that was slowly growing on top of Ira's body, the Dragonborn was laughing, eyes glinting with mirth even as she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Come on now, up you get," Alduin said, and the children scrambled off. Ira took a dramatically large gulp of air, before accepting Alduin's offer at a hand up. She kept her fingers laced with his as the children ran off to cause more trouble. Alduin shook his head. "Why did you have to get me involved with that?" He groaned.

Ira chuckled and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You know you enjoyed it," she teased.

"I must certainly did not," he scoffed, scowling down at his wife, who was grinning far too widely for his liking. "There is a limit to how much human contact I will allow."

Ira huffed. "Just let it go," she said softly. "They did no harm. In fact, I think they did more harm to me than you."

Alduin smirked. "The mighty Dragonborn," he mocked, "taken down by a rock in the ground and a few children."

Ira smacked him on the chest, before using both hands to grasp his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. "There are worse ways to go," she murmured.

Alduin laughed. "When you work out what they are, you let me know."

Ira grinned up at him. "Oh, I will, I promise."

* * *

**There you go! I feel like I'm just writing filler after filler here, but I suppose I can't just leave a massive gap.**

**Until next time, dii lokaalus etakiid! (That means 'my lovely readers', by the way :3)**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: Happy weekend, guys! Hope you're all feeling better than I am because I was up since 2am last night due to feeling positively sick. Still, I managed to get an update in because I love you all that much. Also REUNIONS GALORE! Also DREAMS COMING TRUE! Yeah, you'll see what I mean when you've read the chapter.**

**Big thanks to: Zezazez, Shonisto, novasharp, moonlight33 and Evilkiller for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: I'm glad to hear I can still surprise you :)**

**Dragon Man 180: Yes, true, very true. But you know... Famous Dragonborn... Beaten by a bunch of kids and a ROCK. Pretty bad... As for Eleniel... I have plans. That's all I'm going to say. *evil laugh***

**gabiey: Here ya go! :)**

**Mac Gustah: Ira isn't irresponsible, per say, but with all her life experiences she just has a slightly twisted way of looking at things. Also, she's just generally a bit weird. I'm glad you're liking all the fillers though :) Hopefully the pace'll kick in a bit. Can't believe I'm 41 chapters in and we've only gotten to the beginning of the final movie... This thing is getting really serious now :)**

* * *

**Chapter 41:**

Edoras rose up in front of them, the golden roof of the Meduseld gleaming in the low sunlight. As if pulled by invisible strings the people of Rohan increased their pace, and within an hour they were all filing through the open gates into the city.

Once the last person went through the gate, Ira turned to Alduin, the both of them having waited by the gates to make sure no one was shut out. Alduin raised an inquiring, expectant eyebrow at her.

"I'm going to head North and meet up with the others," she told him. Alduin's brow twitched slightly, causing Ira to smile knowingly. "You'll be fine on your own," she promised with a barely concealed grin. "It'll just be for a few days. One dragon is more than adequate, and I want to make sure they're all okay."

Alduin let out a long breath, before nodding his head. "Alright," he agreed. "But no more than three days, got it?"

Rolling her eyes, Ira stepped up to her husband and gently patted his shoulder. "Got it, worrywart," she teased. Ira stepped away from the gates, not wanting to accidently damage them when she shifted, before letting her tail and wings sprout from her body. She sent Alduin one last glance, seeing his stony expression (which made her want to laugh), before pushing off from the ground with her legs and letting her large wings catch the current of the air. She soared around Edoras a few times, getting her bearings, before sailing in the direction of Isengard.

She flew for very little time, the landscape passing beneath her like water over rock. Within just ten minutes she had located the small travelling party, now making its way back towards Edoras. Ira descended from the air, landed as lightly as she could before her extended limbs settled back into her body and she became human once again.

"How went Isengard?" She asked the party, which had stilled to allow her to land.

"Successful," Gandalf said, "though Saruman is no more."

"I doubt he would have provided the information we desired from him," she said flippantly. Then she saw two smaller bodies wriggling down from their mounts. Her face lit up in a wide smile. "Pippin! Merry!" She knelt down to catch them as the two halflings flung themselves at her, laughing as she almost lost her balance. It was almost like being with those children again. She pulled away and grinned at them both. "It's good to see you," she said.

"It's great to see you too, Ira," Pippin said cheerfully. "Gandalf told us you and Alduin were back to being... well, to being _you_ again."

"We are indeed," she said with a smile. "Yes, one Dark Lord is vanquished, and the Gods of my world can go back to completely recreating that world."

"Did it die in the end, then?" Merry questioned.

"We have little reason to believe that it did not," replied Ira sombrely, standing up. The movement made her head swim suddenly, and she winced, pressing the palm of her hand to her temple as the world swayed slightly.

"Ira?" Aragorn asked, concerned.

Ira waved him off. "I'm fine," she said. "Just stood up too fast, probably." She turned to the hobbits again, missing the look Aragorn shared with Gandalf over her shoulder. "Now," she stated firmly, "you're going to tell me _everything_ about what happened since we parted ways. And I mean it - no skipping details. Okay?"

Merry chuckled. "Only if you agree to do the same," he said.

Rolling her eyes, Ira nodded. "As you wish."

...

Ira spent the rest of the day with the two hobbits, recounting their tales from the moment of their separation. Merry seemed to particularly enjoy the story about her brief time in the elven King's kingdom, while Pippin seemed eager to hear as many tales about Dwin as possible. Ira just listened quietly and calmly as the hobbits told her their story, though there were moments when she wanted to set fire to something - like when Merry and Pippin told her they had almost been eaten and then were almost trampled during the battle between the Rohirrim and the orcs.

By nightfall they were well on their way back to the capital, and when they paused to make camp any thoughts of war stayed away. They drank and sang songs of battle and myth, and just generally had a good time. Even stone-faced Theoden joined in with the revelry, for a time.

Ira avoided an alcohol like it was a particularly nasty plague. She had wanted to try some, but the bitter taste was far below her usual standards, and the alcohol made her feel slightly queasy in the stomach as a result. So, she spent most of the night simply leaning back on the palms of her hands and watching with boundless amusement as the inebriated hobbits belted out songs from the Shire at the top of their lungs.

Within the next hour, however, everyone (except her and Gandalf) were out to the world, gentle breaths and thundering snores alike filling the crisp March air. While Ira stared upwards at the vast expanse of sky above her head, Gandalf stared into the fire, a pipe between his lips, quietly muttering to himself.

"How is Eleniel?" Ira asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Gandalf blinked, then raised his eyes to hers. "She has yet to meet danger," he told her. "She should be with Sam and Frodo by this time tomorrow."

Ira smiled. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. "Thank you for keeping an eye on her for me. It's one more weight off my shoulders."

"One weight gone, only to be replaced by another," Gandalf mused.

Ira frowned. "What?" The wizard seemed surprised he'd even said the words aloud, and a look of indecision crossed his aged face. Ira sent him a harsh look. "Gandalf," she said sternly, "I know you are keeping something from me. What is it?"

There was silence for a while, then a simple sentence that completely turned Ira's world upside down. "Your wish has been granted."

For the briefest of moments, Ira was confused by the seemingly cryptic words, but then the meaning settled in her mind, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You are certain?" She questioned breathlessly, elation and worry churning with equal power in her gut.

"Completely," asserted the wizard.

...

Eleniel was greeted about as well as could be expected when she arrived near Cair Andros. The Anduin could be seen nearby, but the half-elven Princess had yet to cross it. On her other side was the Druadan Forest, through which wound the North-South Road. Her own journey was halted quite suddenly when she found herself surrounded by masked and hooded men, each pointing some form of weapon at her.

"State your name and intention," the leader (or so it appeared) demanded coldly.

"I am Eleniel of Erebor," she answered in the strongest, most confident voice she could muster. "I have come to Gondor in search of two of my friends."

"And whom is it you seek?" The man asked.

"Two halflings," she supplied cautiously. Then, after a moment of thought, she added, "They go by the names of Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee."

Immediately the weapons pointed at her fell away, leaving Eleniel blinking in surprise. "Captain Faramir is holding your friends in hidden caves," the man supplied. "We can take you to them, though the paths we are going to take are secret, so you must be blindfolded."

Eleniel sighed, but nodded her head. "Very well. How far is it until the blindfold is necessary?"

"Less that a mile, milady."

Eleniel nodded again, before swinging out of the saddle of her horse. She unstrapped her bow and knives from the saddle, putting them in their correct places over her body, before saying, "This is a war horse from Rohan, however from here I will have no more use of it. Take it for your own men. Another horse can never go amiss, and I do not want her to wander alone in the Wild, only to be slaughtered by any number of foul creatures that have crept here from the Dark Lands."

"Your generosity is appreciated, milady," the leader said, as one of the men gently took the mare's reins from Eleniel's hand. "One day we will repay you."

Eleniel gave him a grim smile. "We are at war, my good sir," she reminded him. "Generosity, in this case, comes not in the form of charity but practicality and necessity." She then gestured with her hands. "Lead the way, sir."

"It is Lenaick, milady," the Ranger said stiffly.

"Lenaick it is, then," Eleniel said.

After that the group lapsed into silence, the sound being broken only by the steady footfalls of Eleniel's mare. The Princess kept her gaze downwards, not wanting to look at the ominous, black clouds that shrouded Mordor just yet. Already she could feel the tendrils of darkness caressing her skin, and she hid a shudder as the darkness invaded her body and tried to corrupt her heart. But she was not as weak as that, so she periodically shook off the feelings of dread and sorrow, instead focusing on the fact she was soon going to reunite with the friends she hadn't seen for many weeks.

"It is here I must stop you, Lady Eleniel," Lenaick stated after a while, and the entire procession came to a halt. He pulled out a small, slightly grubby rag from the belt at his waist. "May I?"

Sighing heavily, Eleniel said, "Well, we might as well get it over with. Just so you know, if you let me fall over, you're going to be dealing with a _very_ angry woman when the blindfold is removed."

Lenaick chuckled, a hint of his amusement appearing in his hazel eyes. "I wouldn't dare question it, milady." And then the blindfolded fell over her eyes, and Eleniel was introduced to her good friend called Blindness.

Two pairs of hands gently grasped her arms, one by the crook of her elbow, one in her hand, carefully leading her onwards. Every now and then a low voice would tell her to step over a rock, or to mind the drop, and while at first Eleniel was incredibly tentative, eventually she trusted the men enough and began to walk with more speed and confidence.

What seemed like hours later, during which time the breeze had disappeared and the sound of the occasional singing bird disappeared, being replaced by the echo that accompanied being underground, Eleniel was tugged to a stop.

"Wait here," Lenaick said, and then the sound of fading footsteps met her ears.

The hands holding her arms let go, and Eleniel was left to stand awkwardly alone in the dark, fiddling with her fingers as worry and nerves began to creep up her spine. Eventually the footsteps of Lenaick returned, accompanied by another, slightly lighter set.

"Remove her blindfold," a commanding, yet still somehow soft, voice ordered, and suddenly the rag was removed. Eleniel blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust, and then she saw the new stranger. He had a narrow face with curly, shoulder-length brown hair. His eyes had a gentleness to them that marginally surprised the young Princess, though she did not outwardly let it show. The man - who Eleniel assumed to be Captain Faramir - looked at her appraisingly, then said, "I have been informed you are seeking two hobbits. The same two I took into my custody only yesterday."

"Are they alright?" Eleniel asked frantically.

Faramir's eyes softened a little more. "They are tired and battered," he admitted, "but otherwise no worse for wear."

Eleniel sighed in relief. "Thank Mahal."

"Mahal?" The man echoed, frowning. "That is a dwarfish God, and yet you are an elf."

Smiling, Eleniel shook her head. "You are both right and wrong. Yes, it is a dwarfish God, but I am only half-elven. My father is of dwarf-kind, and I grew up in the kingdom of Erebor."

It took a moment, before Faramir's eyes widened. "You are Princess Eleniel." It was a statement, not a question, but Eleniel nodded nonetheless. "You are a long way from home, Princess. I hear Erebor has its own battles to fight - I am surprised you are here and not there."

"My heart does yearn for home from time to time," Eleniel admitted, "but the dwarves and men in the North are more than capable of defending themselves. I have little worry for them." She paused. "Can I please see my friends?"

The Captain seemed surprised, as if he had forgotten her sole purpose for being there, before he nodded. "Follow me." He turned around and headed deeper into the underground tunnels, Eleniel and then Lenaick trailing silently behind him. "Your halfling friends have picked up another companion since your parting," Faramir stated as he ducked - literally - into the next tunnel, passing a couple of armed men on the way, who nodded in respect to him.

"Another companion? Who?"

"A gangly creature," he supplied vaguely. "Though I believe he was once not so different from them, he is no longer of any recognisable race. From what I can tell, he goes by two different names - Gollum, and Sméagol."

Eleniel faltered in her step. "He is a dangerous travelling companion to have," Eleniel mused. "Though I do not doubt that Frodo and Sam had good reason for allowing him with them."

"You know of him?"

"Know of, yes," Eleniel stated. "Though not well, nor have I ever met him myself, in person."

"You will find that, when you do, you might be a little unnerved by him."

"I'm sure I've dealt with worse."

Faramir glanced over his shoulder at her, the side of his lips quirked up, before he stepped to the side. "You have a visitor, Master Hobbits."

Eleniel peered through the gloom and saw two huddled figured gazing curiously at them. Sam was the first to jump to his feet, eyes alight with shock and joy. "Miss Eleniel!"

"Sam!" Eleniel beamed, rushing forward and embracing the hobbit. She pulled back and examined him. He did indeed sport a few scrapes, and he had heavy bags under his eyes, not to mention he had lost a bit of weight as well, but he seemed happy overall. She then glanced over at Frodo. He seemed to be the worst of the two. His skin was starting to mould to the shape of his bones, his eyes appeared sunken, and it appeared like his whole body was trembling as he pushed himself to his feet. His face, in that moment, was alight with glee. "Frodo!" Eleniel quickly embraced him as well, though a heaviness struck her chest when the Ring pressed against her through the fabric of both her and his clothes. "It is good to see you both," she said, pulling away once again.

"It is good to see you as well, Miss Eleniel," Sam said with a grin. It faded slightly. "But... Why are you here?"

"I was sent here by what remains of the Fellowship," she answered. "More specifically, by Ira and Gandalf."

"Gandalf's alive?!"

"Ira returned?!"

Eleniel laughed. "Yes to both," she said. She smiled down at the two of them. "I think we all have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

**Ta-Daa!**

**Yep, that's all for this week, so, until Chapter 42, my friends. :)**


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs (duh).**

**A/N: Hello again :) Well, I've had a pretty crap week, which included spending the day at home on Friday due to a strange sickness-type thing which I'm not even convinced was a real sickness, but anyway... Yeah... Anyway, writing up the rest of this chapter this afternoon made everything better for a while. So, I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it.**

**Big thanks to Alastair279 and Poseidon93 for following and favouriting. :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**silverhawk88: Gandalf may not have known exactly where Frodo and Sam were, but he always had that sort of 'third eye' on them, so I figured he could pick up a vague sense of where they were in the world. **

**The Allseer: Oh, that'll be a fun first meeting :)**

**Pietersielie: Ira's reaction is general bubbliness, which kind of comes and goes within the next few chapters (mood swings are a real bitch to her). Anyways, thanks for the nice words. ^_^**

**Dragon Man 180: I keep changing my mind on the whole live birth vs egg thing. We'll see when the time finally comes. As for the battle at Erebor, according to my research, there isn't a really big battle in Erebor until March the 17th, which, following the current timeline of these scenes, is not for another ten days or so. Ergo, they didn't fight because it hasn't happened yet. And by the time it does happen they'll be preoccupied with the battle in Gondor. So, they won't be fighting in Erebor.**

**Guest: Heh, no problem :)**

**Mac Gustah: Aww, thanks, I'm glad you seem to connect so well with her. Something tells me, were Ira to actually, you know, _exist_, it would work both ways. ;)**

**gabiey: Thanks, as always, and here you go!**

* * *

**Chapter 42:**

"What do you mean he's not here?!" Ira demanded angrily to the soldier who had greeted their party at the gates of Edoras, only to inform her that Alduin hadn't been in the city for close to six hours, having changed into his dragon form and flown away without a word to anyone on where he was going or how long he'd be gone.

"F-Forgive me, my lady, but there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. We didn't even know he was going anywhere until he was already in the sky!"

"Well he'd better have a damn good reason for leaving," Ira growled, marching through the streets with the nervous (understandably so) soldier trying to keep up with her swift, long strides. "I told him quite specifically not to go anywhere."

"He seemed in something of a hurry," the soldier said quietly. "Perhaps he received urgent news that required his attention."

"For his sake, I hope that's the case."

"Miss Ira!"

Still irritated, Ira raised her eyes to meet the sight of a beautiful woman with hair not unlike that of the Lady Galadriel walking elegantly down the steps of the Meduseld towards her. "Lady Eowyn, am I right?" She asked, trying to push her frustration aside so she wouldn't unnecessarily snap at the young maiden.

She nodded with a smile. "Yes, my lady." She held out a hand, in which was a folded piece of parchment. "I think you'll find this most insightful," the woman said with a knowing smile. "Your husband knows you well, it would seem."

Ira felt a smile crack onto her face. "Honestly, my tendencies are not all that difficult to figure out," she said, taking the note with gentle fingers. "Thank you," she said.

Eowyn bobbed into a small curtsey. "It was my pleasure, my lady."

Ira rolled her eyes. "And that happens to be one thing he failed to tell you," she grumbled. "Please, call me Ira. I _hate_ formalities."

Eowyn laughed lightly, her voice pleasant. "You and I both," she said conspiratorially. "The difference between us, though, is that you can get away with ignoring propriety."

"Oh, I'm sure if you put your mind to it, no one could stop you," Ira commented with a grin and wink, before unfolding the note and reading the quickly scrawled message. She sighed. "Damn," she whispered, before meeting Éowyn's curious eyes and saying, "I was half looking forward to giving him a thorough tongue-lashing when he got back. Unfortunately his absence has a suitable reason."

"Where is he?"

"He received word from the Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien that the company Aragorn and I travel with as Rangers have been sent our way. He has gone out to meet them, as was requested of him."

"The Grey Company are some of the finest warriors alive," Aragorn said, appearing very suddenly behind her and making Ira jolt slightly. "Why would they need his escort?"

"I would imagine, with all our coming and going, they don't know for certain where we are," Ira mused aloud. "Besides, whether he'd admit it or not, Alduin has some friends among that group that he hasn't seen for the better part of twenty years. I'm sure some of his time with them will be spent catching up."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think Alduin was fond of the dúnedain at all," he said.

Ira snorted. "That's what he _wants_ you to think. He's still got the ideology in his head that admitting he has friends and family is admitting a weakness." She pursed her lips. "Although in recent weeks that has somewhat been proven to be true." She shrugged. "Either way, I think it's actually mainly an issue of pride. Dragons don't make a habit of befriending people - they usually make allies which they will inevitably betray one day. For Alduin - the Overlord of all dragons - to admit to having multiple friends, would be like me admitting to you that I sleep with a stuffed unicorn. Which I don't, just in case you were wondering."

Aragorn chuckled to himself at her antics. "I think you need to go and cool down, Ira," he said, not unkindly. "Your mind seems a little all over the place."

Ira let out a long breath. "Yes, I suppose it is. And I would never say 'no' to a hot bath." She nodded. "Good idea." And then she turned and marched off towards the Meduseld with Eowyn - who had been so quiet that Ira had honestly forgotten she was even there - following behind her. She turned to the woman. "So," she said slowly, "I've heard from more than one person in passing that you can handle yourself with a blade."

Eowyn smiled. "I was trained from a young age," she told the Dragonborn. "Though mainly for the purposes of defence, should it be necessary."

Ira paused in her step. "They stopped you from fighting at Helm's Deep, didn't they?" Eowyn nodded, making Ira frown deeply. "Well, we can't have that."

Eowyn's eyebrows rose faster than Ira could keep track of them. "What?" She asked meekly.

Ira sighed. "Look, I know it's somewhat different here, but where I'm from, you were almost just as likely to see a woman with a blade as a man. Women were given the same respect as warriors, and the same opportunities were open to them. If they wanted to fight in a battle, there wasn't anyone who was allowed to tell them otherwise. So, the next time you ask to fight, and you're told you have to stay behind the walls and let the men do all the work, I want you to pick up your sword and show them just how good us women can be. Got it?"

Eowyn had paled slightly, but there was an admiring smile on her face as she nodded her head. Ira nodded in return, satisfied that she had done her bit for now; she refused to let Eowyn be forced into the nature of a 'proper woman' because of a few men with egos bigger than their bodies could hold. It was about time they learnt the ultimate worth of the fairer sex.

"Ira, if you were looking for the bathing room, you are going the wrong way," Eowyn called, breaking Ira from her thoughts.

Ira smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't paying attention, and it's been a really long time."

"You've been here before?" Eowyn asked, astonished.

Ira chuckled. "I'm a lot older than I look," she reminded the woman. "I stayed here for about three months about... oh, I don't know... Seventy years ago? Sixty five perhaps? I must say I am actually glad to see it hasn't changed much. Makes things a lot easier for me."

Eowyn laughed lightly. "I suppose it would do." She shook her head. "I still cannot believe I am speaking with the _Dragonborn_. You are revered throughout the kingdom."

Ira groaned. "I do hope that wasn't supposed to make me feel better, because I tend to find the attention is more trouble than it's worth."

"Oh, forgive me!"

Ira waved her off. "It's fine," she assured the blonde quickly. "But from now on I'd like you to just try to forget I'm the Dragonborn - from now on, with you, I'm just your friend. Forget titles and legends. I'm just Ira."

"My friend?" Eowyn echoed, sounding surprised.

"Well, sure, if you want to be."

Eowyn beamed. "I'd love that! I have so few friends, what with all my responsibilities. It took me by surprise, that's all."

Ira smirked at Eowyn and winked. "I could tell." She then laughed when Eowyn mildly flushed. "Don't worry about it, Eowyn," she said. "Speaking from personal experience, you don't need lots of friends; as long as you have just one or two people you trust with your life, be it friends or family, you can live very happily."

"It's a little more difficult when those people are all male," Eowyn muttered.

Ira grinned and patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. "Oh, believe me, I know." She smiled. "I'm glad to have another woman I can talk to - there's only so much maleness one can take."

Eowyn smirked. "Oh, believe me," she repeated, "I know."

"You know," Ira said lightly, "I rather think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Eowyn laughed. "I hope so," she said.

"And hey, if we ever find ourselves at a loss of what to do, I could never turn down a new sparring partner," Ira said with a wink as Eowyn gently pushed open a pair of double wooden doors, leading into a large bathing room. The scents of jasmine, honeysuckle, rose and lavender filtered through the air, as well as more woodsy smells like moss and fern and leather.

"The one at the far end is the private bath for the royal family," Eowyn said as she led the older woman through the room. "You're welcome to use it."

"Thank you," Ira said with a smile. "It's been far too long since I had a proper bath."

...

"What are you doing still up? We still have far to travel tomorrow."

Eleniel jumped slightly at the soft voice, but she sent Faramir a smile when he stopped and stood silently beside her as she stared out of a small hole in the walls of the cave system they were currently resting in. "I cannot sleep," she admitted. "Not this close to Mordor. The darkness affects elves far more than any other beings. I fear what horrors will disturb my sleep should I drift off."

"Little sleep is better than no sleep at all," Faramir reminded her. "And if your story holds true you have just spent many days riding without pause for rest."

"I come from two hardy races," stated the Princess. "I have also spent longer without sleep. I will be fine for a while longer." She turned around. "But what about you? Why are you awake still?"

"I worry for Osgiliath. More and more orcs storm those shores with each coming day; they cannot take much more without reinforcements, but even that I fear will not be enough. Osgiliath is lost already, sure as day."

"Do not lose hope yet," Eleniel said softly. "Give it a few days and for all you know you will have two dragons to fight alongside you."

"So the rumours are true," Faramir mused. "The Dragonborn and the World Eater have sided against the Enemy. This is good news."

Eleniel chuckled. "You know, if you'd wanted to know the answer to that, you could have just asked. Ira - the Dragonborn - is my godmother."

Faramir raised both eyebrows. "You have both powerful friends and family, it would seem."

Eleniel shrugged half-sheepishly. "Ira and Alduin went with my father's kin to Erebor all those years ago. They still remain strong friends. In fact, they went to Erebor not too long ago."

"And where are they now?"

"They are in Rohan with King Theoden. They fought alongside him at the battle for Helm's Deep." She smiled. "Although, in all honesty, once those two had arrived, I doubt there was much anyone else could do but watch."

"Certainly, to have a dragon on your side almost guarantees you victory," Faramir mused.

"Dragons are not invincible," Eleniel said quickly. "They can be injured and killed, just like everything else. And like all things, they have weaknesses."

"Well, let us hope the Enemy do not know of them."

Eleniel smiled. "Luckily for us, there aren't many who do. And two of those happen to be-"

"-the dragons themselves," Faramir finished with a slight smile. His face then fell flat again. "If they truly do intend to help us, I can only hope they arrive quickly - our defences weaken with each minute that passes, and with each minute more people die."

"Such is the nature of war," muttered the Princess darkly, and the two fell into a sombre silence.

...

Night had fallen by the time Alduin returned with the Grey Company following in his wake, by which time the feast to honour the dead was well underway. Songs were being sung and drunken dances were taking place, whilst various drinking competitions were going on. No one seemed to notice the group of thirty Rangers, two elven Princes and one dragon as they entered the room.

Alduin's eyes immediately swept the room in search of his wife, who he eventually found laughing with a woman with long blonde hair, watching what appeared to be a drinking contest between Legolas and Gimli. Her body was framed in an elegant but simple gown of black and gold. For a moment he didn't move, simply content to watch as her eyes lit up with her laughter, but then those azure pools met his own amber gaze from across the room, and the laughter and amusement was swept away by delight and excitement. Ira began to push her way through the crowd towards him, and with a small roll of his eyes, Alduin moved forward to greet her.

It wasn't completely unexpected when Ira practically threw herself at him, both arms wrapping around his neck while his own settled around her waist. Alduin's face buried itself in her free-flowing hair, savouring her warmth. He would never say it aloud, but he had missed her during the past few days.

She pulled away, her eyes bright. "Alduin," she breathed, as if his name was something sacred. She beamed. "You'll never believe it! I'm-"

"Ira!"

For a moment, frustration flashed across Ira's eyes, but then she turned around and it was gone. "Halbarad!" She grasped his shoulder tightly, as he did the same with hers. "It is good to see you again, at last."

"And you as well, my lady." Ira pulled a face, and Alduin couldn't help but laugh under his breath at her blatant hatred of any sort of formality. It was one thing about her that would never change. "I trust you are well...?"

"Very," Ira said with a smile. "And you?"

"In need of a good night's sleep, but as things go I am well."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ira said. "Now, go and have a drink - with how far you've travelled, you deserve one."

Halbarad chuckled and teasingly bowed. "Yes, ma'am." He then flashed her a wink before turning on his heel and walking away.

Ira shook her head. "What was I saying? Oh, yeah!" Her face had never seemed so cheerful as Alduin glanced down at her, confusion warring with amusement in his mind at how quickly her facial expression kept changing. Whatever she said next was, unfortunately, drowned out by a chorus of loud cheers, and Alduin glanced up to see Gimli on his back on the floor, snoring loudly enough that when the cheers died down a little, the snores could be heard even across the vast hall.

On the other hand, Ira did not look impressed. She mumbled to herself under her breath.

Alduin moved his head closer to her. "What was that?" He asked, his lips brushing her ear. He didn't fail to notice the minute tremor that went down the length of Ira's body when he said that.

"I said: 'The Gods are against us.'" She replied stonily.

Alduin frowned. "Why?"

"Because whenever I try to tell you my news something happens to interrupt me." She huffed. "I'm going to try one more time, and if that doesn't work something is going to get broken."

Alduin chuckled; watching his little spitfire get so worked up would never cease to entertain him. "We could always move outside," he suggested but Ira vehemently shook her head.

"No," she said, "I want your reaction to be witnessed by the many."

Alduin arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Ira took a deep breath, apparently both mentally steeling herself whilst also preparing herself for a quick Shout should something go wrong _again_, before she said, quite clearly and confidently, "I'm pregnant."

* * *

**CLIFFIE! Aren't I so absolutely kind to you all?**

**Until next week ;)**


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.**

**A/N: Happy weekend, people! It's now half-term, so you might be lucky and get a few additional chapters over the course of the next week. We shall see. And I'd just like to mention that this chapter is almost twice as long as my chapters usually are (4578 words including the beginning and end author's notes)... I got a bit carried away. Ahem... yeah... ONWARDS!**

**Big thanks to hauserjohn6 for favouriting and following. :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Dragon Man 180: That's not in any way wrong, no, although I'm afraid Eleniel is gonna stay with Frodo and Sam so it won't be happening... :)**

**Pietersielie: Ira and Eowyn will be the kind of 'opposites attract' friendship. They disagree on a lot of things, but at the same time are slightly intrigued by one another. Also, their both women in a 'man's world', so they both feel they have to team up to prove themselves to the men.**

**kittycatcharlie: No promises... XD**

**snowbeard3: I'm glad you think so :)**

**The Allseer: I think a ton of bricks would have been less of a shock, to be honest.**

**gabiey: Thanks, nice to hear from you as always XD**

**Ny'Kle: I'm probably too proud of that :3**

**Alastair279: I sort of went all-out crazy with his response... There aren't really any facts about how dragons react to finding out their mate is pregnant so I just took it and ran with it. :D**

**jsun25: He does none of those things, I'm just going to tell you now.**

**Guest: Hehe, I'm happy to see you enjoyed that :)**

* * *

**Chapter 43:**

The sounds of merriment and drunken raucousness dimmed as Ira held her breath, waiting anxiously to hear Alduin's reaction to her announcement yet suddenly unable to look him in the eye. In just a few seconds the only sound she could hear was the heavy pounding of her own heart as it fought to break out of her ribcage.

A warm finger appeared in her vision and then promptly tilted her face up, forcing her to meet the gaze of her husband. Ira jolted when she saw this his pupils had become thin slits, the usual orange of his eyes seeming brighter, almost as if they were glowing. Before she had time to comprehend anything else, Alduin's lips had slammed down on her with such heat, passion and intensity that her breath was completely stolen away from her, and for a moment Ira could do nothing but stand still, in shock.

Then in an instant her senses flooded back, and Ira's hands wrapped themselves around Alduin's neck as the sheer joy of this occasion exploded around them like a shower of white-hot sparks. Perhaps this was what it was like when people said they could feel fireworks going off - it compared to nothing else she could think of.

Ira emitted a tiny gasp when they parted, breathing heavily, noting the familiar glazed look in his eyes. It was like she had enchanted him, ensnaring him with her gaze, with the knowledge that a part of him was growing inside of her. In that moment Alduin was not a dragon, he was not the son of a God, he was a simply a man who was starting a family of his own.

But that moment was over quickly. With eyes still serpentine in form, Alduin pressed his hand solidly over Ira's lower stomach, and Ira's whole body twitched at the sudden, unexpected contact. Ira stared in confusion when Alduin's lips moved, forming a Shout that he muttered under his breath, going unnoticed by all but them.

"_**Sos Brod Spaan.**_"

Ira frowned as the meaning of those words registered in her mind: _Blood Family Shield_. "What did you just do?" She asked him quietly, knowing he would hear her even over the continuing chaos unfolding behind and around them.

Alduin's big hand gently stroked Ira's hair, his thin pupils taking in the sight of her as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. It honestly made her feel both self-conscious and truly treasured. "It is a protection charm," he whispered. "There is a part of me within you now, so that charm links us together through the child. Whenever you are in danger, or our kiir is in danger, I will know wherever in the world I am, and I will come to you as soon as I can."

"And if you can't make it?" Ira questioned, the thought of putting her baby under threat during the war that had yet to come giving her an uneasy feeling. It didn't sit well with her at all, even though she knew it to be necessary.

"I will," Alduin said sternly. "I will _not_ allow you to come to further harm, lokaal. Not ever."

Ira nodded silently, before she frowned. "Okay, what's going on with your eyes? They're not changing back to how they normally are."

Alduin grinned, a wicked, sharp grin that had shivers running down her spine. Even the dragon in her blood was startled by the expression, and it stirred with interest, somehow knowing what Alduin was about to say and anticipating it eagerly. "Do you remember that day in Laketown, when I told you dragons cherish their children as much as dwarves do?" Ira nodded, uncomprehending. "There might have been something else I forgot to mention. The news that his mate is pregnant acts like a aphrodisiac on a male." His grin widened at Ira's shocked expression. "For the next few weeks or so I'm going to be worse than a libidinous teenager."

Ira's body quivered slightly at the news, her dragon purring its content within her mind. Oh, how it wanted to be set free. She smiled wryly. "Perhaps it would have been a better idea to tell you when we weren't in a room full of people."

Alduin hummed, burying his head in the locks of her hair and inhaling loudly, before letting out a shaky breath, as if the very scent of her was enough to cause his control over himself to waver. And, based on his previous confession, Ira deemed it likely. Then Alduin's low voice, slightly strained, met her ears. "Is that permission, my lady?" He asked, and for the first time Ira wasn't irritated by the title. In fact, she was rather pleased to hear it.

She smirked at him, her hand seeking his as her eyes lit up with excitement, and she said, "Second door on the left, third right, first left, fifth door on the right." And with no further instructions Alduin was ploughing his way through the crowds with Ira at his heel, her grip on his hand never faltering.

...

"Osgiliath," Faramir breathed, the whole party pausing at the crest of a hill overlooking the city. He turned to his men. "We must make haste - they are in graver danger than I feared. Mordor has already come, it seems."

"The Ring will not save Gondor," Frodo said in a haunted voice as he stared at the destruction that Sauron's army had wreaked on the city of men. He blinked, as if pulling himself from a haze, before turning to Faramir. "It has only the power to destroy. Please, you must let us go."

Faramir didn't even spare the hobbit a glance. "Hurry."

Eleniel felt herself being pushed onwards, her hands bound uncomfortably in front of her. Despite showing no sense of her being a threat, the fact she was friends with Sam and Frodo seemed to make the men of Gondor believe she was dangerous, and so when they had set out again that morning Faramir had ordered she be bound like her friends. Needless to say she was _very_ unhappy.

"Have you never heard the stories of the One Ring, Master Faramir?" She asked pleasantly, even though there was a coldness to her usually warm eyes that could send shivers down the spine of any man. "The Ring was made to control those of weak will. The Ringwraiths of Dol Guldur and Minas Morgul - so close to your home and yet you ignore their presence - were once men who fell to its power. The Ring is an instrument of evil and yet you are allowing it to cloud your judgement. Do not fall as Isildur fell. Do not let yourself show such weakness."

Faramir stared at her for a long time, before he turned to the man beside him and muttered in his ear. The man nodded once sharply, before approaching her. Eleniel shifted a bit in the hold of the man who was 'escorting' her, feeling cautious, and rightfully so. A moment later, there was a sharp pressure on the joint of her neck, and before she could even hiss out a curse blackness had curled around her eyes and pulled her into oblivion.

...

After an eventful night - during which a commotion outside caused Alduin and Ira to hurriedly throw on the barest of nightclothes (Ira was wearing little more than a nightgown, though Alduin had at least managed to find a pair of breeches and a loose tunic) only to find Pippin had been foolish enough to try to see into Saruman's palantir - the whole Fellowship, along with Theoden, a few of his most trusted men and the Grey Company, were stood in the hall of the Meduseld. Last night's party was little more than a distant memory, the tables gone and the floor and walls spotless. Ira felt sorry for the maids and servants who had been the ones to clean up.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf said to the King, who had himself only just been informed of what had happened. "A fool," he said with a slight twitch of his lips as he shared a glance with Ira, who in returned smirked at him, "but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." Across the hall, Ira heard Gimli breathe out a massive sigh of relief. "We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the Enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, and enough strength perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Eleniel," Ira breathed, her breath spiking with fear. Beside her, Alduin was mirroring her own expression of concern, but he still wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Tell me," Theoden said at length, turning towards the wizard with tired but resolute eyes, "why should we ride out to the aid of those who would not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"I would have thought certain death would be incentive enough," Ira said through a sneer, eyes blazing enough that every few seconds her dragon would press forward enough to affect her pupils. "Get over your petty differences with the steward - he's an incompetent fool anyway - and think beyond the fate of your own kingdom. It isn't just Rohan that is at stake here, nor is it just Gondor. I have seen my own world burn, and it is not a sight I wish to witness a second time."

Theoden narrowed his eyes at her and was clearly about to retort, but then a different voice spoke.

"I will go."

"No!" Gandalf barked quickly.

"They must be warned," Aragorn said sternly.

"They will be," Gandalf said, before walking up to the Ranger and murmuring his ear, his voice low enough that not even those of sharpest hearing could overhear their conversation. Then the wizard turned away. "Understand this: Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I will ride to Minas Tirith. And I shan't be going alone." He turned his gaze to Pippin, who looked completely terrified, but then shifted his eyes to the Dragonborn. "Ira..."

"I will fly ahead," the woman said. "But beyond my abilities to fight, I do not know what help I will be in persuading the steward to light the beacons; he and I have a... rocky relationship. Not to mention I doubt threatening him will be the best cause of action."

Gandalf nodded his head, but then Alduin spoke up, his voice harsh and cold and broking absolutely no disobedience (not that Ira would listen either way). "Absolutely not."

Ira rolled her eyes. "You will not stop me, Alduin."

"It is not simply your own life at stake any more, Ira," he reminded her. "You will be going where the fighting is most threatening to you both."

"Now, or in a few days, it makes little difference," she snapped. "Gandalf wants me to go, so I am going." Then she softened her voice and lifted a handle to gentle cradle his face. "I will be careful, I promise," she whispered, sending him a small smile. "And if at any point either of us are in danger, you will know. I trust you."

Alduin pressed his forehead against her, before exhaling loudly and reluctantly nodding his head. "Fine," he agreed, before dipping his head and placing a very desperate kiss on her lips, as if it were the last they were ever going to share. A few of the others had to look away from the sudden and unexpected show of affection. Ira was breathless when he pulled away, and it took her a few moments for her to be able to form any coherent thoughts. Alduin placed his lips gently against her forehead, before muttering, "Stay safe."

"I promise," Ira answered with all the seriousness she could muster, before she turned to the others. "King Theoden," she acknowledged, bowing her head. "Aragorn." He bowed in return. She grinned. "I'll see you in a few days," she called as she turned around to march out of the hall. She paused by the door and turned back. "Don't be late - we're all counting on you." And then she slipped out into the open.

As soon as she reached an empty space big enough Ira shifted, noticing how instantly at least fifty pairs of eyes were trained on her. She stretched out her wings, as she usually did, before pushing off the ground with her hind legs and shooting into the air.

The wind under her wings was as freeing as always, but this time Ira wasn't just flying for the sake of it. She had a job to do, and so she pushed herself to fly as fast as she could.

As grasslands, mountains, rivers and forests all blurred together, Ira soared closer and closer to Minas Tirith, the darkness of Mordor becoming more potent as well. She felt it seeping into her mind, and while the dragon part of her was tempted by the sheer power of the darkness, Ira was not swayed, and she was the one in charge. So she firmly reprimanded her dragon, reminding her that the Enemy would betray them in the end, before she pushed the evil voice from her mind and kept it firmly locked out.

Due to her speed, Ira cut down a usually twenty minute flight to just over ten.

But Minas Tirith was not the city in need - in the distance, fires and plumes of black smoke could be seen coming from Osgiliath, and it was here that Ira flew. Her keen eyes picked up orcs and men alike, until with a start she noticed a familiar head of black hair. He was stood alone on a tall ledge, and for a moment Ira had no idea why. Then she saw a great, winged beast (no doubt some distant cousin of the dragons) rising up in front of him. Ira surged forward, crashing into the beast just before he was about to snap at Frodo (although Sam had knocked the hobbit over just in time, so it wouldn't have worked either way).

Her claws dug into the beasts flank, and it bellowed out a roar before turning away and fleeing back to the Black Lands. Ira huffed her approval before she felt something sharp piercing her wing. She glanced at it with only the mildest of interest, seeing it to be a man-made arrow. She growled in irritation when she caught sight of the man who had fired said arrow, who paled and whimpered, but then turned her head and sent a stream of white-hot flames at a party of orcs. They all burned to ash in seconds.

"Ira!"

Ira turned her head to see Sam beaming up at her, and elation filled her. It was gone in a moment, however, when she noticed that, not far from where he and Frodo were stood with a strange creature she didn't recognise, Eleniel was slumped, unconscious. With a rage-filled roar Ira swept down, changing at the last second back to her human form before marching towards the group of four men who guarded the Princess.

"Untie her," Ira commanded. The men did nothing, simply stared at her in silence. Ira's eyes flashed. "Untie her or so help me I will roast you where you stand and then do it myself."

That got the men moving. One of them supported Eleniel while another pulled out a small knife and quickly sawed through the rope binding her hands together. They then scampered away, leaving Ira alone with her goddaughter. The woman crouched down and tenderly brushed a lock of red hair out of Eleniel's face.

"Ira!" Sam's voice sounded again, and Ira turned to see him, Frodo and that strange creature rushing towards her. She beamed and embraced the two hobbits, before casting the creature a curious glance. Sam clearly caught the look. "That's Gollum," he said bitterly. "He's been our guide since Emyn Muil."

Ira smiled slightly at the creature, who was watching her with equally curious and wary eyes, before she turned back to Eleniel. "What happened to her?" She demanded, kneeling down again to check Eleniel's temperature. It was normal, thankfully.

"The men did something to her body that just caused it to shut down," Frodo said meekly, seeming completely exhausted. "They pressed a point on her neck, I think."

"Pressure points," Ira said, nodding to herself. "How long ago was this?"

"No more than half an hour," the dark haired hobbit supplied.

"Then she should be awake in a few minutes." Ira straightened and turned, only to see a group of about a dozen men standing in front of her, all wearing familiar clothes. "Ah, the Rangers of Ithilien," she greeted with a cold smile. "I did wonder whether you'd be here."

"How do you know who we are?" The leader questioned harshly, eyes narrowing.

"I myself am a Ranger, although of the North rather than the South," she answered. "I've met a few of you in the past." She frowned, seeing how some of them were watching the hobbits closely, before her mind slowly connected the dots and a look of thunder crossed her face. "You captured them," she said with a hiss.

The leader nodded. "They carry a great prize."

"A great prize!?" Ira exploded, causing many to jolt. "A great prize?! That's the sort of thinking that's going to get you more than killed, man of Gondor!" She snapped. "That 'prize', as you call it, is single-handedly the most dangerous thing in the world right now, because it is the only thing keeping Sauron alive, and so the only thing keeping his armies in one piece." She huffed. "Perhaps Lord Elrond was right in his opinion of you," she sneered, turning back to Sam and Frodo, who were visibly startled by her sudden change in mood.

"And what is that?" The man asked lowly, clearly daring her to provide an answer he wouldn't like.

Ira smirked, her face appearing dangerous, her dragon pressing ever closer to the fore. "Men are weak."

The conversation was suddenly cut off when Eleniel let out a loud groan, and in a flash Ira was by her side, helping her to her feet. It took a few seconds after Eleniel was steady for her to open her eyes, but when she did they widened instantly with shock and joy.

"Ira!"

Ira let out a sudden huff when Eleniel lunged at her, wrapping her thin arms around the Dragonborn's neck. "Easy," Ira said, laughing. "You don't want to squeeze too hard."

Eleniel drew back, frowning. "Why not?"

Ira smiled, pure and unbridled joy radiating from her. "I'm with child," she said, and Eleniel let out a squeak of excitement before her eyes darted to Ira's stomach.

"Really?" The younger woman inquired, beaming. "Oh, wow! Congratulations!"

Ira chuckled. "Thanks." Then her expression sobered. "You need to leave, all four of you."

The leader of the Rangers suddenly walked forward, and Ira instantly tensed.

"It seems, we at last understand one another, Frodo Baggins," the leader said with a smile, kneeling in front of the hobbit. He smiled. "You have a stout heart, and I can see you fight this terror just as hard as we all do, if not more."

"You know the laws of our country," one of the other men said, "the laws of your father. If you let them go, your life will be forfeit."

The leader looked determined but solemn. "Then it is forfeit," he announced. "Let them go." Frodo and Sam readjusted their grips on their packs, while Eleniel simply patted the leader on the shoulder.

"I knew you'd come around in the end, Faramir," she said with a smile. "Even if it took a little bit more time than we'd hoped." She turned back to Ira. "We'll see you again, right?" She asked quietly.

Ira nodded and smiled. "It's a promise. You look after them, and yourself, okay?"

Eleniel grinned. "You don't have to tell me twice. But you have to swear you'll do the same."

Ira rolled her eyes. "I've already gotten the lecture from my husband, I don't need one from my goddaughter, as well."

"Ira..."

She sighed. "Alright, alright, I promise. Trust me, I have no intentions of putting my child in danger. Not to mention Alduin would tear me a new one if I did. He's got a physical link to me now - as soon as there is any kind of serious threat, he'll be chasing after me faster than you can say 'incoming'." She grinned, then turned back to Frodo and Sam. "You'll do this," she told them. "I know you will. Remember what you're fighting for - remember your home and your families - and it'll give you the strength to push through. Okay?" They nodded and then wandered over to Eleniel. Ira, after a moment of thought, turned to Gollum, who seemed surprised that he was being noticed at all. She sent him a soft smile. "You're a lucky thing, Sméagol," she said softly. She glanced over at the others, who were watching her in confusion. "You couldn't find more loyal friends if you wanted to." Gollum followed her gaze.

"Master helps us," he said lowly. "He's our friend."

Ira's smile widened. "He cares for you, too," said told him. "Can I entrust them to you, Sméagol?"

Gollum nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Good Sméagol watches Master. Sméagol will look after him for the nice lady."

Ira chuckled. "Call me Ira," she said, before standing. "I hope we'll see each other again, Sméagol. Goodbye."

Gollum nodded with a toothy grin (well, as toothy as a mouth with nine teeth could get) and then scrambled over to the others. They sent Ira a final wave before they turned and disappeared from sight.

Ira's smile faded as the purpose of her visit was brought back to mind. She turned around and addressed Faramir. "You're the Captain, yes?"

He nodded slowly. "I am."

"I have to speak to Denethor. I bring urgent news from Rohan."

"Could you not fly there?"

Ira laughed without humour. "Not only would that draw more than a little bit of unwanted attention to myself, it also wouldn't help with the fact Denethor can't stand me. Not to mention I refuse to leave Osgiliath while it is still being attacked."

"Then I will send a messenger," Faramir said. "What do you have to say?"

"An incident with a palantir informed us of Sauron's plan," she said seriously. "He will attack Minas Tirith with all his strength within the next few days - he doesn't want to the free people of Middle Earth to join forces against him. Now, Theoden should be here by the time Sauron's forces arrive, however the beacons of Minas Tirith must still be lit. As much as I hate to admit it, Theoden is hesitant to come to your aid when you did not answer his pleas for help."

"We had our own-"

Ira held up a hand to stop the Captain. "I know you were busy, and I do not hold your absence against you. But Theoden needs that extra pressure. Send you messenger to Denethor and tell him of Sauron's plans, then tell him that it is the counsel of not only myself but also of Gandalf the White to light the beacons. Theoden will answer your call, I am certain."

Faramir pursed his lips, but then nodded. He turned behind him. "Lenaick," he called, and one of his men stepped forward. "You heard all of that?" Lenaick nodded. "Good. Take one of the horses to Minas Tirith and inform my father of this news. Report back with his response."

Lenaick bowed my head. "Yes, Captain." He then strode off.

Faramir turned back to Ira. "You said you will help us. Tell me your weapon of choice, and I will make sure you are adequately equipped."

Ira chuckled. "I have a sword of my own," she said, patting said sword. "But I doubt I shall be using it much."

Faramir frowned. "Why not?"

Ira cracked a grin and let the change come over her, stretching and tugging at her limbs. She stood at her full height, grinning wickedly down at the stunned men. "_**Why use a sword when you have wings, claws, teeth and flame?**_" She asked, before laughing and taking off into the air.

* * *

**Ta-daa! I am amazingly proud of that, even though I had to correct about a thousand mistakes while going back over it. Hopefully I've got them all, but I'm sorry if I didn't.**

**Anyways, until next time, my readers!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: See, I told you I might update more :) This on is closer to normal length, though.**

**Big thanks to Carelise682 and WhiteCat2011 for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: While the thought is nice (and at the same time, really not) I kind of figured these men had better control of themselves than that.**

**Dragon Man 180: Haha, oops. Yeah, I noticed that after I wrote that reply. Sorry - I think my mind was a little out of it. As for Paarthurnax and Odahviing... Maybe. I can't imagine those two would be particularly eager to get involved (hence why they haven't been there often in this fic yet), but we'll see when the time comes. And yeah, I know the books differ quite a lot to the films, however even in the book I hated Denethor, so I suppose this is just me letting out my frustrations over the way he does... well, everything... Sorry if it's not exactly to your liking.**

**gabiey: Well, wait no longer!**

**lordrednight: Aww, thanks. I'm glad we are in agreement there ;)**

**Carelise682: Yeah, me too. I also think they're really compatible categories, so it was an opportunity I couldn't miss XD**

* * *

**Chapter 44:**

"Lady Ira," Faramir called, and Ira glanced down at him from her seat atop the battlements of Osgiliath.

"**_Lord Faramir, I have told you many times _****not ****_to call me that_**," she huffed. "_**But what is it you wish to tell me?**_"

"My messenger returned."

Ira sighed, shifting back to her human form. "And judging by your tone it isn't good news," she said to him.

Faramir shook his head. "Unfortunately not. My father has refused to light the beacons. He would not disclose his reasons."

"His stubborn pride, I suspect," Ira muttered angrily. "I have half a mind to fly over there and scare him out of his wits in order to do it, but I doubt that will help in any way at all."

"It has been several hours since any of us have seen any sign of an orc here," Faramir said. "I am sure you can spare a few minutes. And we won't know what help you will be until you at least try."

Ira sighed. "In truth I have been putting off a meeting with that man. You were very young at the time, so I doubt you remember it, but I spent a few months in this area. Denethor and I can't stand one another."

"The threat of burning him to a crisp might sway him," Faramir said with a small quirk of his lips.

"Except he knows I will not do it." Ira stated. "As much as we hate each other neither of us has yet had any genuine wishes to see the other dead. And I am an ally of Gondor. He knows it is not wise to test that allegiance."

"So is that not an incentive to listen to your advice?"

"Perhaps, but since he already knows the advice comes from my lips I fear not."

Faramir placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go," he said, in a sort of half-order. "We will be fine without you for an hour or so. So far, you are our best chance of success." He then smirked. "Not to mention I doubt anyone would stop you were you to take lighting the first beacon into your own hands."

Ira grinned. "Where have I been all your life?" She asked rhetorically with a chuckle. She smiled and placed a firm hand on Faramir's shoulder. "You're a good man, Captain Faramir," she said with a smile. "Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." Faramir stared at her, shocked, as if she had discovered his greatest secret. She chuckled again. "There's a reason you and I get on, and your father and I don't; you two are polar opposites. Because of that I assume he scorns you for not being the son he imagined you to be, correct?" Slowly, and not without a large amount of hesitation beforehand, Faramir nodded. "This coming from someone who is over 600 years old - wow, that's a lot more years than I thought - he's completely wrong about you. I have met few finer men in my whole life." She patted his shoulder twice before stepping back and allowing the shift to come over her again. She looked down at the Captain. "_**If all goes well I shall be back within a half hour. If it goes badly I should be no longer than two hours. And if I'm not back even by then...**_" She paused, thinking over her next response briefly. "_**Well, don't be surprised if you see another dragon on the horizon.**_" She then pushed off from the ground with a great thrust of her rear legs, before flying leisurely towards Minas Tirith, hoping her slow speed would not only alert Denethor of her imminent arrival, but would also give some reassurance to the city's soldiers that she wasn't an enemy.

The large stone courtyard atop the city was the perfect landing spot, and so the dragoness hit the ground hard, hoping the vibration would unnerve the irritating and (in her opinion) incompetent Steward. And indeed, within a few moments the Steward rushed out of the citadel, looking more than a little bit irritated.

He stopped in front of her and scowled, amusing her to no end. The guy was either stupidly arrogant or stupidly courageous... And she knew it _definitely_ wasn't the second option.

"So Sauron decides to send this foul beast to my gates," he sneered.

Ira growled, narrowing her eyes. She lowered her head so it was in line with the Steward's, and he visibly flinched and paled. "_**You are fool to think antagonising a dragoness is a good idea.**_"

"Whether I collapse to my knees and beg for mercy, or whether I treat you like the piece of filth you are, it makes no difference. You no doubt come bearing a message, so deliver it, and then be gone from my sight."

Ira settled back on her hind legs, letting the dovah in her take over her mind. It wasn't the first time she'd done it, but she certainly didn't make a habit of it. "_**Sahlo, mal joor, (Weak, tiny mortal,)**_" she hissed. "_**You have no power over me. You have no power over anyone. Nikriin! (Coward!) You should be on your knees begging for the mercy of your overlords.**_"

"I will not bow to you, worm!" He snarled. "Guards!"

Ira took over her mind then, noting her blood was beginning to boil with rage. "_**Dreh ni bo! Do not move another inch, or you will feel the heat of my flames!**_" The guards obeyed instantly. Ira turned back to Denethor. "_**You mistake my purpose for coming here, Steward. I am no ally of the Dark Lord. I am an ally of Gondor.**_"

"That is for _me_ to decide."

Ira grinned, bearing her teeth to the imbecile in front of her. "_**You already have.**_" She then allowed herself to shift back, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword when the astonished eyes of Denethor, son of Ecthelion, turned angry.

"What witchcraft have you come to possess?"

Ira laughed. "It is not witchcraft; it is a gift of my blood. Or have you forgotten who I am?"

Denethor sneered. "The Dragonborn, the legendary hero who came from a world beyond this one. As if I could forget such lies."

Ira rolled her eyes. "Still convinced I'm a fake, eh, Denethor? It matters little right now."

"Considering you just showed up on my doorstep threatening fire and death, you must have a purpose for intruding on my life once more."

"Eloquent as ever, I see," Ira grumbled, shaking her head. "In case you haven't noticed - and, let's be honest, I wouldn't put it past you - there is an army of Sauron drawing ever closer to your lands. An army bred and trained to slaughter every free creature on Middle Earth. And you are first on the list to go. So, I would recommend you put aside your damned pride for once and call for reinforcements. King Theoden merely awaits your word."

"I would not ask for help from him even if the end days were upon us," Denethor snarled.

"Well, they are, so for Talos' sake, do something useful!"

Denethor whirled around faster than she could react and a sharp sting immediately flooded in her cheek from the impact of the hit. She even stumbled slightly, but she didn't fall. Her eyes became stony and hard, filled with a quiet rage that only one person could tame, and he was a long way away.

Denethor stood before her, grasping the hilt of an ancient but well-maintained sword and breathing heavily, his own anger at peak levels, but not even close to surmounting hers.

"You have no authority over me, wench," he hissed, face and posture calm, but his eyes blazed. "You may be a legend to others but in Gondor you are seen as the fake you truly are. We will not be fooled by you lies."

Ira smirked, eyes smouldering. "Ten minutes," she said, catching the Steward off-guard.

"What?"

"You have ten minutes before hell takes over," she hissed. "Which means I have ten minutes to cause you as much pain as I damn-well please." Her rage was too much now, she wasn't seeing the foolhardiness of her own words and actions, but she was beyond caring.

"Your treachery will cost you your life."

Ira smirked, taking a predatory step towards him, noticing how the guards around her shifted uneasily, hands edging towards their weapons, ready to protect the Steward but not overly eager to face down a woman who could easily turn into a fire-breathing rage monster. "You are not my leader, and I am not of your kingdom, therefore I cannot betray you as if you have any right over me at all. Furthermore, you are _not_ the King of Gondor, and he is only man from whom I will take orders."

"Oh yes," Denethor sneered, mirroring her action and taking another step towards her, "I have heard of this Ranger from the North. The eyes of the White Tower are not as blind as you seem to think. Well, I tell you this, I will not bow down to this Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

Ira's fury reached higher levels. "You cannot deny him his birthright. You were not given authority to deny the return of the King!"

"The rule of Gondor is _mine_, and mine alone."

"Your son has a better right to the throne than you do!"

"My son is dead!"

"I meant Faramir, you blundering fool!"

"Faramir?" He laughed coldly. "That boy is not fit for the throne. He cares for little beyond his books."

"He is a strong warrior, he is one with his men, and he is as fiercely loyal as any of your best, yet you scorn him and toss him aside," Ira snarled, finally drawing her sword and grasping the hilt loosely in her hand, noticing how there were suddenly many more weapons pointed at her. She could feel a faint stirring in her stomach, and she knew Alduin was getting closer. She smirked. "Seven minutes."

"You count down to nothing more than your own demise," Denethor sneered. "No one is coming."

"Oh, you are so naïve," Ira said pleasantly, starting to circle him now, her hand clenching harder and harder on the grip of her sword. "Do you really think I am unable to find allies? I have more than allies." She smirked. "I have married a _very_ protective God, and he is on his way." Ira smiled when his face paled slightly. "Six minutes."

"Guards!"

In an instant Ira was surrounded by eight guards, all heavily armed and armoured. She became a whirlwind of movement, swinging her blade back and forth, the thought that these men were only following orders being the only thing that stopped her from killing them outright. Instead she carefully placed her blows to injure them to the point of incapacitation, or to knock them unconscious completely. She stopped when the last man fell limp in front of her, then turned to face Denethor again, only to find him gone.

The moment of confusion that followed cost her dearly. A strong, thick arm braced itself under the curve of her breasts, the other placing a cold metal blade against her throat. She grinned. "Two minutes."

"You will be dead before then."

"And then you will have all the more reason to fear for your life. And not just your life - your very soul." She spat on the floor, noticing there metallic taste of blood on her lips as she did so.

"This... _husband_ of yours..." Denethor drawled, pressing his blade slightly harder against her throat and making the smallest of cuts in her skin. A small bead of blood began to gather against the metal. "Is _he_ your King? Do you obey his every order?" Suddenly the blade had moved, as had the hand around her torso. Instead, she found said hand holding tightly onto her throat, almost cutting off her supply of air, but not quite. The sword moved downwards, until it was poised directly over her lower abdomen. The feeling of dread that settled in her stomach was so potent she suddenly couldn't breathe. _One minute. Come on, Alduin, where are you?_ Never before had she felt so hopeless, and her mind fell blank. Not even the most obvious solution in the world, which she had at her imminent disposal, came to mind. She struggled slightly in Denethor's grip, but he held tighter onto her throat until breathing became nearly impossible whether she chose to breathe or not. "Tell me, _Dragonborn,_ what manner of creature currently resides within your womb? Are you breeding a new race of monsters? Of abominations?" Ira struggled again, but then the blade was pressed harder against her stomach, and she stopped. "If you so much as twitch another muscles, you can say goodbye to you offspring."

That was the final straw. A roar of fury so loud it shook the surrounding mountains tore itself from Ira's throat, and in a split second she had gone from being a hostage to being the captor, using her newly-formed sharp tail to knock Denethor away from her. He groaned as he hit the wall that bordered the courtyard, and Ira heard with some satisfaction several bones snapping under the impact of the hit.

"_**If you dare to threaten the life of my child again I promise you I will reward you with the most painful death ever experienced,**_" she snarled, eyes glowing.

Denethor chuckled. "I would like to see you try." He winced, before pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Where is this backup of yours? See, I think you made that up too-"

A low-toned roar filled the air, cutting off the rest of Denethor's words, and in a flash Alduin had landed beside Ira, his greatest height and strength making the Steward of Gondor quail. Alduin cast Ira a small glance to make sure she wasn't hurt, before facing the Steward again. With a low growl he spread his wings, gliding forward, picking up the Steward in his talons, and then swerving, flying straight up. Ira settled herself down on the courtyard, noticing idly that some of the guards were starting to regain consciousness, but she cared not.

She waited with eager anticipation, and at long last, a few seconds later, the wailing cries followed by the flailing limbs of the Steward of Gondor met her strengthened sight. She wanted him to die, almost more than anything, but there was one thing she had to do first, so she launched herself from the ground and spun in the air, catching the terrified Steward in her claws before flying towards the city of Osgiliath.

She reached it in moments, lowering herself enough that dropping the Steward would cause him pain but wouldn't kill him. She then landed on the wall above him and waited for the arrival of Faramir and his men. Denethor had just gotten back to his feet when they arrived, and Faramir was clearly surprised to see his father, pale, bruised, wincing at the pain in his chest (no doubt he had more than a few broken ribs), and looking completely terrified.

"Ira," Faramir said nervously, not moving to help his father. "What happened?"

"_**He threatened the life of our child,**_" Alduin said, swooping in to land behind her.

Faramir sighed. "I suppose I understand the warning about another dragon arriving, at least." He pinched the bridge of his nose, before confusion overcame his mind. "Why bring him here, though?"

"**_I am offering him one last chance to spare himself from the punishment his actions deserve,_**" Ira said harshly. "_**He knows what he must do, and if he refuses I'm afraid there is little that will stop me from taking his life.**_" She glanced at the Captain. "_**Not even if you beg me.**_"

"I do not know what you desire of me," Denethor choked out, wincing again. "You have said nothing!"

"_**I should not have to,**_" the dragoness replied coldly. "_**I will give you a minute to figure it out. If you say nothing, I fear nothing can save you.**_"

"_**And it is not her you will have to answer to,**_" Alduin added, growling low even as his tail wrapped itself around hers in a sign of reassurance. Ira nudged her head slightly against his neck in silent thanks. Then, a tense silence fell over the group as they all waited for Denethor to speak, or not to speak.

* * *

**Et voila!**

**IMPORTANT: Okay, so I'm going to be a sort of poll thing, and I would like you guys to be the ones to decide what happens next. Should Denethor be killed the dragons, or not? I am leaving this completely up to you.**

**Until next time, lovely readers ;)**


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: Sorry about the slightly late update - I had a really busy weekend and wasn't able to finish this in time for my usual Sunday post. But, it's up now, and hopefully worth the wait. Just a warning, this chapter is slightly more graphic than a lot of the ones I've written before. It's not particularly bad, I just thought I'd give you a heads up. Also, the majority of the people who responded to me about the whole Denethor situation said something along the lines of 'let Aragorn deal with him'. So, that's what I'm gonna do :)**

**Big thanks to Idrisil and Lordequinox for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s)**

**Pietersielie: You know, the last few chapters you have been - without fail - the first person to review this fic, so for that, thank you very much :) Hopefully you won't be too disappointed with the lack of dragon-rage(ish).**

**The Dead Baron: Hehe, just imagining it makes me want to laugh.**

**jsun25: Yeah, well, he was a little riled up, I guess...**

**Dragon Man 180: Protective dragon parents _are_ the best parents, that's very true. :)**

**Ny'Kle: Yeah, that was always one of my favourite bits :3**

**diabolo88000: Most people, it seems, agree with you.**

**The Allseer: You and me both. Still, the people have spoken, and so Denethor will continue to live (for now, at least).**

**lordrednight: Well, ultimately, we are human, not dragons. As are Alduin and Ira (partially, anyway).**

**akatosh117demon: No, no he isn't.**

* * *

**Chapter 45:**

The silence in the air was heavy, not the light, comfortable sort of silence that everyone wanted. Denethor looked haggard, and Ira knew in that moment he had figured out what she wanted him to say, but still he hesitated. Ira was ready to send a threatening growl at him to make him start, but then he opened his mouth, and the words came tumbling out faster than he could stop them.

"You remind me of your mother," he said to Faramir, who in turn blinked in surprise. "You are like her in every way, and I cannot help but remember her when I see you, even now when you are a grown man. You are a reminder of what she was, of what I lost, and for that I hate you. Each second I see you I am aware of her, and of the fact I cannot have her back." He shook his head. "You are so like her," he repeated, throat tight, "and because of that I see you as _her_ son, not mine, because there is barely an ounce of me within your blood. For that, I made myself a terrible father to you. I didn't feel like I was your father. I still don't sometimes, and for that reason I feel like I cannot allow you to see when I am proud of you. Never doubt that you are a son of Gondor. You have the strength of a man of Gondor, and the same courage. But through you I see my wife, and I remember how I failed her. In turn, I have failed you." He sighed. "Forgive me." The last bit came out so quietly it was a serious struggle to hear it.

"My whole life I tried to be the man you wanted me to be," Faramir said lowly. "You never noticed. You drove a blade into my heart with every time you dismissed me, or scorned me." He shook his head. "I cannot forgive you for what you did to me. But I am willing to give you another chance, if you wish to try to fix this mess we've ended up in."

It took a while, but then Denethor nodded.

Once again silence fell over them, and Ira couldn't help but notice it had a different awkwardness to it now. There was no tension, just the feeling of waiting for someone to say something to move the topic on to something else.

As it turned out, that person was Faramir. He turned to face Ira, and he said two words which had her immediately springing away from the walls of Osgiliath: "The beacon."

Ira flew over the grasslands separating Minas Tirith from Osgiliath, and then swept low over the capital, searching with her sharp vision for the first of the beacons. She found it in seconds, and with a quick burst of flames the beacon was lit. The wood roared to life, violently enough that the little cover over it also caught alight. Ira remained stationary above the beacon just in time to see the second beacon being lit, before she turned tail and flew back towards Faramir and Alduin.

She was surprised to find, when she returned, that her husband had shrunk down to his human size and was pinning Denethor against a wall. The Steward looked understandably terrified for his life. Alduin's cold fury burnt with dangerous intensity. Ira never worried about his frequent fireworks and showers of red hot sparks; it was these bitterly cold, slow-burning rages that were the ones to be wary of, as they took such a long time to dissipate.

"If you ever threaten the life of my wife again," he was saying when Ira landed and shifted back to her human form, "I will tear you apart limb from limb, slowly enough for you to watch as each is ripped to pieces. If you threaten my child, I will happily hand you over to the hands of the Dark Lord and let him do with you whatever he pleases, and the only thing I will do in return is find a good seat from which to watch." He snarled. "No one, neither man nor elf nor God, threatens my family. Do you understand me?"

Just watching that display had the two halves of Ira conflicted. While one part - her human part - wanted to pull Alduin away from Denethor, her dragon half was growling its approval, and seemed oddly thrilled by the sight of her mate protecting both her and their child with such fervour. Not that he ever hadn't (omitting the time when he wanted to kill her, of course, but that was six centuries ago).

Denethor was trembling violently when he nodded vigorously, and then when Alduin released him, the Steward scrambled away as fast as he could. Alduin then turned to Ira, his eyes draconic, and in a flash he had shifted back to his dragon form and swept her up in his claws. Even though she knew he wouldn't drop her, Ira couldn't help but instinctively grasp tightly onto him, watching with mild amusement as Alduin flew them over Minas Tirith and towards the Druadan Forest, where he gently dropped her into the branches of a tree before shifting himself. The two began to descend, having been unable to land on the ground without tearing several trees out from the ground.

Ira reached the bottom a few seconds after Alduin, and she glanced at him curiously. "What was all that about?" She questioned.

"Are you alright?"

Ira rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you know if I wasn't?"

"Ira, just tell me..."

Ira let out a sigh. "I'm fine," she assured him. "I may have been scared for a moment but there was still that part of me that knew I wouldn't get hurt."

Alduin growled low in his throat and stalked towards her, pushing her forcefully against the trunk of the tree they'd just climbed down. His forehead pressed against hers, and his face was serious (almost to the point of deadly) when he spoke to her, voice low enough that Ira could feel the vibrations in her chest. "You're mine," he told her, the lingering anger dripping from his words. "You are my wife and my mate. It is _my_ child that grows within you. I will not allow _anyone_ to take you away from me." His eyes flickered for a moment between human and serpentine. "You. Are. Mine."

Once again the show of dominance had her dragon mewling with pleasure, while Ira's mind had been effectively turned to a pile of mush. Still, she managed to draw up enough sense and strength to reply with, "And you are mine," before she tilted her head upwards and crashed her lips against his. Alduin growled against her lips, moving close enough for her to feel his body even through her armour, hands resting on the trunk on either side of her head. Ira's breathing became deeper when he pulled away from her lips, her posture altering as she practically melted into the tree behind her, the weight of Alduin's body the only thing stopping her knees from collapsing. Alduin moved both arms so they were at his sides, and starting at her knees, his hands touched gently, slowly moving them up to her waist and then pausing for her reaction. Ira locked her eyes on his, bright blue into glowing amber. His right hand raised to her hair, tucking the brown wisps behind her ear. Then it was him that moved in first, Ira needing no more invitation. They kissed again, this time even more hungrily, savouring each moment, lost in a heady trance of passion.

Armour plates and leather fell onto the floor, leaving both bare to the world. Alduin's fingertips were electric, and wherever they touched her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. The need for one another became tangible, and they both began move in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the exact same moves twice. Once more, they became one; one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other.

...

"Wake up!" Eleniel jerked at the sudden noise and let out a groan even as Sméagol continued eagerly. "Wake up! Wake up, sleepies. We must go, yes. We must go at once."

Sam stirred slightly, glancing at Frodo even as Eleniel did the same. The dark circles under his eyes had become more pronounced over the course of the night. Sam frowned. "Haven't you gotten any sleep, Mr Frodo?" He asked. Frodo slowly shook his head. Sam sighed as he looked out at the darkness. "I've gone and had too much," he grumbled. "It must be getting late."

"No," Frodo said, voice thick. "It isn't. It isn't midday yet. The days are growing darker."

"That's at least a good sign we're growing closer to our destination," Eleniel said, standing slowly and stepping out into the low sunlight.

"Come on!" Sméagol called. "Must go, we must go!"

"Not until Mr Frodo's had something to eat," Sam called.

"No time to lose, silly!" Sméagol said in frustration, and Eleniel laughed.

"Let your Master eat, Sméagol," she said softly. "You know better than most the great burden he carries."

Sméagol nodded solemnly. "A great burden, yes, very great." He glanced over his shoulder. "Master needs his strength."

"With where we're going, I think we all do," Eleniel said quietly. She then knelt down and dug through her pack, bringing out a piece of cloth. She passed it to Sméagol, who stared curiously at it. "I got this when we were passing a stream yesterday. We're going further and further from water now, so I thought you'd like it."

Sméagol unwrapped the cloth and beamed when he saw a large fish. "For us?" He asked eagerly.

Eleniel nodded and smiled. "For you," she told him. "Eat up, we'll be moving soon." And eat Sméagol did, bones and all. The whole fish was devoured within a minute, the creature looking distinctly more cheerful as well by the end.

"Thank you, elf lady."

Eleniel chuckled. "You are never going to call me by my real name, are you?"

Sméagol happily shook his head. "Nice lady says to look after Master," he muttered to himself. "Must keep promises."

"Nice lady?" Eleniel questioned, and he jumped, as if he had forgotten she was there.

Sméagol nodded. "The dragon lady."

"Oh, Ira!" Eleniel smiled. "Yes, she is a very nice lady."

Sméagol grinned toothlessly at her, before scrambling over to Frodo and Sam. "Come, hobbitses," he said, gently taking Frodo's hand and pulling him forward. "Very close now. Very close to Mordor. No safe places here. Hurry!"

...

"Do you think we will arrive in Gondor in time?" Aragorn asked as he and Legolas stood watching the men of Rohan bustle around, having seen the lit beacons and been ordered by the King to prepare to ride to Gondor.

"I believe we will arrive as soon as we are able, and we must hope that is enough," Legolas answered. He glanced around him. "Have we heard anything from Ira and Alduin?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Nothing but silence," he responded. "I still am not sure what caused Alduin to leave so suddenly. All I know is he seemed to very strongly think Ira was in danger, but I have no idea how he could possibly know that for certain. He was gone before I could ask."

"Ira is with child," Legolas explained, and Aragorn looked at him in surprise. Legolas raised his eyebrows. "You did not know?" Aragorn shook his head. "She is not far in," Legolas said, "so I suppose that is understandable. But elves of the Greenwood are more attuned to the life around us, and so I detected the change in her as soon as she arrived. I would imagine, being her husband and her dragon's mate, Alduin has some way of keeping an eye on her and the child."

"Hopefully they are all safe," muttered the Ranger, frowning slightly.

Legolas placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "If anyone in the world were to be the last to die, it would be those two. I am sure they're fine."

Despite his friend's reassurances, Aragorn couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that everything was about to take a sudden turn - for better or worse, he didn't know. Gandalf's last words to him before he left with Pippin towards Gondor rang still in his ears: _You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river. Look to the black ships._

He could only guess at this point what the wizard's words meant, but he was certain he would figure it out when he needed to. The question that nagged in his mind right now was: _are we going to be able to help?_ And he had no way of knowing the answer to that for sure. He could only hope and pray that there was still a chance that they could win this.

* * *

**There you go! Sorry again for it being a little late.**

**Until next time, lovely readers! :)**


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to their respective owners.**

**A/N: So this one is a little shorter, but at least it's on time. My brother came home from university this weekend, so it was a bit difficult finding the time to write up this chapter.**

**Big thanks to anothokuro for favouriting and following. I appreciate it :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Wow, that's a really positive response. Thanks! :)**

**Dragon Man 180: Yeah, I've never really liked Denethor, but I think giving him a second chance was the best decision (thank you to my readers XD). As for the other bit, Ira lit the one Pippin lit. **

**lordrednight: Hehe, hopefully this chapter made your impatient awaiting worth it ;)**

**gabiey: Well, here it is! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 46:**

"Where are Alduin and Ira?" Faramir asked frantically as he and several of his men rushed towards the river, having been alerted to the presence of several orc boats floating upstream.

"They disappeared shortly after the confrontation with Denethor, sir," a nameless voice replied, and Faramir's brow furrowed. "There's been no sign of them since."

"Sire, what do we do?"

"We fight," Faramir said sternly.

"Will the dragons come to our aid?"

Faramir sighed. "I cannot tell you, because I myself don't know. We can only hope." The rest of the men fell into silence as they took positions against walls and behind columns just as the first of the orcs started to disembark from their boats. In order to catch them by surprise, the Gondorians let a few rows of orcs rush past their positions, before darting out and charging into battle, swords and axes flashing.

...

The sound of the forest woke Ira up with a frown on her face - or rather, the lack of sound. It seemed an uneasy silence had fallen over the place. She had fallen asleep to the sound of singing birds and the occasional chirp of crickets, but now there wasn't even any wind to make the leaves whisper to each other. There was nothing but complete stillness.

Slowly, the Dragonborn untangled herself from her husband, who was still sleeping peacefully, though a frown seemed to be tugging at his lips. She stood up and glanced around her, uncaring of her nakedness and without the desire to put her armour back on, despite the cold and biting wind that wrapped around her. Instead she started to climb up the length of the nearest tree, cursing quietly every now and then when her skin was scratched by the rough bark. The sun was just beginning to rise in the East when she at last poked her head above the topmost canopy of dark leaves.

The world seemed peaceful for most of the view, until one looked towards Mordor, and instead were greeted by dark, black clouds and a single spire of pale light. A mysterious desire rose up in her the longer she stared at the Black Lands; a desire for power. Infinite power and control. Once again her dragon lifted its head at the promise of control that came floating out from the Dark Lord, thrumming with pleasure at the promise of subjects to control. She could become an Overlord - the Overlord of men, and elves, and dwarves, and even the little hobbits.

For a moment, even the human within her was tempted.

But then Ira caught herself, forcefully shoving her dragon back into its position at the very back of her mind, sent Mordor a look of absolute loathing, and then prepared to start climbing back down the tree. But then a flash of orange caught her eyes, and Ira squinted towards the bleakness of the East to see small fires burning away at a chalky, white background. Her eyes widened in horror, and she quickly scrambled down the tree.

She let herself fall the last twenty feet, landing with a soft _thud_ on the grass. She gave Alduin a swift kick, to which he grunted in discomfort, before searching the area for her armour.

"What are you doing?" Alduin asked groggily, still half in the world of dreams.

"Osgiliath is burning," Ira replied, and in an instant the male was on his feet, copying her and swiftly putting on his armour and then strapping his black blade to his waist. By the time he was done, Ira was just pulling her brown tresses into a practical ponytail.

Without care of the trees around them, both shifted into their superior bodies and raced towards the city of men, the true extent of the devastation becoming apparent when they saw the men were fleeing towards Minas Tirith, the Nazgûl and their winged beasts swooping down to pick off a few of their number as they went.

Alduin and Ira clashed with the beasts in a flash of sharp teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at the leathery skin of their cousins. Flames and ice rained from their mouths, and eventually they managed to drive the fell beasts away, outraged cries falling from their mouths while their riders let out high-pitched shrieks of fury.

While both dragons desired to follow their cousins and retake the city of Osgiliath with sword and flame, their first priority had to be the lives of the men, so while Alduin flew ahead to tell the men of Minas Tirith to open the great doors for their arrival, Ira remained hovering above the men of Gondor, providing protection from anything else that might try to waylay them. Thankfully, they faced no more foes.

As the last horse disappeared through the gates of Minas Tirith, Ira landed on the ground and shifted back into her human form, marching through as the gates started to be pulled closed. Instantly there were members of the general public helping injured soldiers off their horses and whisking them away towards the Houses of Healing for their wounds to be treated.

Ira fought her way through the thick crowd in search of Faramir, and when she found him she also found Alduin with him. To her surprise, facing the Steward's son were Gandalf and Pippin, though the hobbit was almost completely out of view.

"Mithrandir!" Faramir said with relief. "They broke through our defences. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of orcs are crossing the river." He seemed slightly winded, and he looked completely exhausted.

A soldier stepped forth then, frowning. "It is as the Lord Denethor predicted!" He declared, and for a moment Ira wondered where the Steward was. Then she figured he was probably stewing in his tower. "Long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Foreseen and done nothing," Gandalf snapped, shifting slightly to reveal Pippin more clearly. Faramir stared at the little hobbit in surprise. Gandalf noticed this, of course (little got past his keen eye). "Faramir? This is not the first halfling to have crossed your path."

Slowly, Faramir shook his head. "No."

Pippin perked up, his face showing a beaming smile. "You've seen Frodo and Sam!"

Faramir nodded.

"When?" Gandalf urged. "Where?"

"In Ithilien," the man replied. "Not two days ago." Gandalf exchanged a pleased glance, but then Faramir's voice called their attention back to him again. "Gandalf... They've taken the road to the Morgul Vale."

"And then the Pass of Cirith Ungol," Gandalf murmured. Faramir nodded.

"What does that mean?" Pippin asked, frowning with concern. "What's wrong?"

"You see that light over there?" Ira asked, pointing towards the pale blue spire shooting up towards the black clouds. Pippin nodded nervously. "That is Minas Morgul. One of the two most dangerous places to be right now, and _that_ is where they are headed."

"Faramir," Gandalf said sternly, "tell me everything."

Faramir swiftly dismounted from his horse and he walked away from the others with Gandalf at his side, the two of them conversing in low tones.

Pippin looked up imploringly at Ira. "Will Sam and Frodo be alright?" He asked quietly.

Ira smiled, though it was difficult to make it seem genuine, and she wasn't sure she was successful. "I'm sure they'll be fine - they've got Eleniel with them, remember?"

Pippin's brow furrowed even more. "Honestly, that just makes it worse," he muttered.

Ira huffed out a quiet laugh and put her arm on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "They'll be okay, Pip. They know how to stay hidden."

"And what about you? You're hurt."

Ira's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she glanced over herself, not feeling what he said was there. Then her eyes fell on a large scratch on her right arm, which took on the shape of claws. "Oh," she murmured, gently poking it, only to draw her hand back very suddenly when her arm flared with a sharp pain. She smiled reassuringly at Pippin. "I'll be fine," she told him. "It's just a scratch."

"A scratch that, in your other form, will be on your wing," Alduin said, speaking up for the first time and making the Dragonborn jolt slightly.

"I was able to continue flying after the injury was inflicted," she stated calmly. "If there were going to be any problems, they'd have made themselves known by now. I'm fine, I promise. You of all people would know if I wasn't."

At that, Alduin's concerned expression fell away, and he nodded.

Pippin gently tugged at Ira's hand, like an impatient child waiting to get the attention of their parent. She glanced down at him and saw he was smiling widely. "Gandalf said you were pregnant," he told her, and Ira chuckled.

"So what if I am?" She challenged, her face softening when she felt Alduin step up beside her and take her hand in his.

Pippin shrugged. "Nothing like that," he said quickly. "Just... congratulations." He paused, then sheepishly said, "You're going to make me Uncle Pippin, right?"

Ira laughed and affectionately ruffled his hair. "We'll see, Pip. We'll see."

...

Eleniel woke up with a jerk when Frodo shouted loudly. "No, Sam! Leave him alone!"

She was on her feet in a flash, bow in hand and her other hand reaching for an arrow. She relaxed marginally when she noticed there were no visible, unknown threats.

"I heard it from his own mouth," Sam said urgently to Frodo. "He means to murder us!"

"Never!" Sméagol cried, looking horrified by the idea. "Sméagol wouldn't hurt a fly!" He placed a hand to his head and drew it back to show it was bleeding, before letting out a cry and pointing at Sam. "He's a horrid, fat hobbit who hates Sméagol and who makes up nasty lies!"

"You miserable little maggot! I'll stove your head in!" Sam said, going to attack Sméagol again, only to be pulled back by Frodo.

"Sam!" Frodo cried.

"You call me a liar?" Sam yelled, ignoring his friend for the moment. "You're a liar!"

"You scare him off, we're lost," Frodo stated logically, but Sam violently shook his head.

"I don't care," he said. "I can't do it, Mister Frodo; I won't wait around for him to kill us."

Frodo frowned and said sternly, "I'm not sending him away."

"Why can't you see it, Mister Frodo?" The blonde asked, his voice imploring. "He's a villain."

"We can't do this by ourselves, Sam," Frodo said softly. "Not without a guide. I need you on my side."

Sam's face became sad. "I'm on your side, Mister Frodo," he said.

"I know, Sam," Frodo said with a smile. "I know."

Sensing the worst was over, Eleniel silently slipped past the two hobbits and crouched down in front of Sméagol, whose eyes darted about everywhere, no doubt looking for some way to escape. Eleniel held up her hands as a sign of peace.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she promised. "Let me look at your head." Slowly, the creature crawled forward, and after wetting her hands in the pool next to her, Eleniel gently ran her lithe fingers over his head, cleaning away the blood. It turned out the scratch was quite small, and already the blood flow had come to a stop. She smiled. "It's a lot smaller than it seemed at first," she told him. "You'll be back to normal in no time."

Sméagol nodded. "Nice elf lady," he muttered. "Helps poor Sméagol."

Eleniel smiled. "You're one of us now, Sméagol," she told him. "And we look after each other, yes?"

Sméagol nodded. "Sméagol looks after Master, and the elf lady, because dragon lady says so, and good Sméagol always keeps his promises."

"And I keep mine," Eleniel said with a smile. "I promise to look after you, Sméagol."

Sméagol gazed at her for a long time with those big eyes, before he grinned and eagerly took her hand, dragging her towards where Sam and Frodo were resting, both snuggled under their cloaks, trying to make use of what little warmth they provided.

"Sleep, Mistress," he told her. "Sméagol will look after the nice elf lady."

Eleniel smiled. "Thanks, Sméagol. Goodnight." Eleniel lay back down and, for some reason, she felt no danger coming from him, even though she was certain Sam hadn't lied about what he'd heard. For now, though, Eleniel felt completely safe, and so she drifted easily into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Voila!**

**Until next time, my friends :)**


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all you special women out there. Hopefully you're getting spoiled today. And from me to you all: You're doing a great job ;)**

**So, I didn't get any follows/favourites this week, which is fine because I've already got loads more than I thought I would, however I'm starting to wonder if perhaps this is getting drawn out a little too long. So I'd like your opinion on whether or not I should speed up the pace of this story, skip over the filler-y bits more quickly and get down to the action, or if I'm good with how I'm doing. So, yeah, give me your thoughts.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: I'm glad you're still enjoying it :)**

**Dragon Man 180: The elven rope has some kind of weird enchantment woven into it (I looked around online, couldn't actually find _which_ enchantment it was, but the enchantment thing came up several times), and also Eleniel is only a half-elf. This combined means she isn't poisonous to him. Hope that clears things up :)**

**gabiey: Well, wait no longer!**

**ROWDYKADEN: I'm glad you enjoyed it (and you're welcome) :D**

* * *

**Chapter 47:**

"This is how you would serve your city? You would risk its utter ruin?"

Denethor had not noticed that Alduin and Ira had entered the main hall with Faramir; no, his eyes were trained only on his son. He either ignored or was completely oblivious to the two others standing near a great, stone column.

"I did what I judged to be right," Faramir stated calmly.

"What you did," Denethor said with exaggerated patience, "was send the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless halfling. It should have been brought back to the citadel to be kept safe. Hidden. Dark and deep in the vaults not to be used. Unless at the uttermost end of need."

"I would not use the Ring," Faramir stated firmly, narrowing his eyes as if to challenge his father to retort. "Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a King of old," Denethor mused aloud.

Ira stepped forward then, away from the arms of her husband and into the view of the Steward, who seemed caught off guard by her sudden appearance. "He has the makings of a just and noble ruler," she said calmly. "The Ring would not have saved Gondor even in its darkest hour. Sending it away was the best decision that could have been made under the circumstances."

"A halfling will not be able to keep the Ring from the hands of our foes."

"A halfling alone, no, perhaps not," Ira told him. "But Frodo Baggins is neither alone nor any ordinary hobbit. He of all the people in this world has the best chance of succeeding. Even in times of strife he is able to keep a sensible head on his shoulders, and he has the determination and drive of a man with so much to go home to. He will not fail, of this I am certain."

"You sing such praises of a man not half your size, and who before this winter had little experience of the world beyond the borders of his home. One cannot know the Wild in such a short time."

"Where Frodo goes no man knows the land, except for the allies of Sauron and the creature Gollum," the Dragonborn stated patiently. "No amount of experience in the outside world would prepare him for what he has to face. And his small size will keep him hidden." Ira sent him a hard look. "I praise him because he has made leaps and bounds that were never expected of him; I think Master Baggins surprised even his closest friends."

Denethor stared at Ira for a long while. Then when he spoke, he surprised her. "I admit I am sceptical still, but your words of faith in this halfling are reassuring. Perhaps you are right." He nodded to both Faramir and Ira, who in turn exchanged shocked and confused glances, though they weren't about to ask about his sudden change in attitude towards the two of them. Then Denethor spoke again, his voice as cold and harsh as they were both used to. "Leave me. All of you."

Faramir bowed while Ira simply inclined her head a little, before the two turned and walked out of the hall, Alduin slotting himself next to Ira along the way.

The Steward's son shook his head as soon as the doors closed behind them with a rumbling shudder. "I have no idea what you did to him," he muttered. "It's so odd that it feels wrong. At least his scorn was normal. This just feels... strange."

"I know what you mean," Ira agreed. "But hopefully this means he's trying to make up for all his previous abuse towards you."

"I would not hold my breath," Faramir said with a sigh. "I have a feeling in my gut that as soon as this is all over, and as soon as you disappear off into the wind once more, things will return to how they used to be."

"Perhaps that is his plan," Ira allowed, "but people can change in a short time. He may be pretending to be trying to repent for what he's done now, but over time he may find that this attitude change is the best thing for him, and he will have to fake it no longer."

"I hope that is the case," came the quiet answer, and Ira shot him a sympathetic look in return.

...

"The Dead City," Sméagol announced morbidly. "Very nasty place. Full of enemies." He jumped onto the stone road leading towards the city of Minas Morgul and quickly ushered the others to follow him. "Quick. Quick! They will see. They will see!" Frodo suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, staring at one of the grotesque statues on either side of the road. "Come away. Come away!" Sméagol cried, gesturing above his head with his bony hand. "Look, we have found it. The way into Mordor. The secret stair."

Eleniel glanced upward, noticing how steep the stairs were. One slip and chances were you would fall all the way to the bottom. "How many stairs are there, exactly?" She asked, but was distracted when Sam called out to Frodo.

"No, Mister Frodo!"

"Not that way!"

Eleniel whirled around to see Frodo stumbling towards the doors of Minas Morgul, as if against his will. Swearing under her breath, Eleniel ran towards him, roughly grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards the stairs, Sméagol quickly joining her.

"They're calling me," Frodo muttered, stretching out an arm towards the city even as he was tugged back.

Once he was a safe distance from the city, Eleniel took Frodo's face in her hands and whispered urgently to him. "You are strong, Frodo Baggins. Do not let the evil defeat you."

He stared at her for a moment, but then the sound of beating wings met their ears, and they looked back at the city in time to see one of the fell beasts rising up above the city walls, and on its back was one of the Nine. It let out a piercing shriek, causing the hobbits, Sméagol and Eleniel to wince and clutch at their ears in pain. For Eleniel it was especially bad, due to her elven hearing.

Frodo suddenly jerked, clutching at his shoulder, where Eleniel had been told he was struck by a Morgul blade. "I can feel his blade," Frodo hissed, eyes screwed shut from agony.

The doors of Minas Morgul opened with a groan, and line upon line of orcs started marching out, many carrying torches. Eleniel stared out at the gathering mass, a haunted look in her eyes. "We come at last to the final battle of this age," she muttered, before shaking herself off.

"Come away, hobbits, nice elf lady! We must climb!" Sméagol called, giving Frodo a nudge up the stairs with Sam following after him. Then Sméagol followed with Eleniel pulling up the rear.

...

The armies of Rohan were gathered at Dunharrow, white tents sitting on the grass while the King's encampment above their heads was also preparing for their arrival.

Theoden turned to his leaders as he passed them. "Grimbold, how many?"

"I bring 500 men from the Westfold, my lord," came the reply.

"We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Théoden King," another piped up.

Theoden frowned. "Where are the riders from Snowbourn?"

"None have come, my lord."

A few rows behind the King rode Aragorn and Legolas, the two with equal amounts of nerves in their hearts, though for different reasons. Legolas' thoughts lay ahead at the battle, while Aragorn's kept repeating Gandalf's words to him. The only other path he could think of to Gondor was through the Dimholt road, where the traitors of Isildur's army lay cursed. Why Gandalf would send him that way he knew not, as the chances of him surviving were almost none, but he knew desperate times called for desperate measures, and perhaps the wizard knew something he did not. He could only hope that, whatever the reason for Gandalf's advice, he would live long enough to fight for the fate of Middle Earth.

...

A commotion near the entrance to the city caught their attention, and Alduin, Ira and Faramir headed towards the centre of the chaos.

"No one go near it!" Someone cried. "The last person who got too close ended up getting kicked."

"What is this devil creature?!"

"It is a spawn of evil!"

"Kill it!"

"Hey!" Ira shouted, catching everyone's attention as she saw the reason for the panic. She glared at them all. "That's my horse, and you will _not_ be laying a finger on him, am I understood?" There were murmured yeses and a few nods, and, satisfied, Ira approached Shadowmere, who dipped his head in greeting. Ira smiled and stroked his long nose. "Hey, buddy," she whispered. "I've missed having you by my side."

Shadowmere snorted and affectionately nipped the end of her hair, causing Ira to laugh before struggling to untangle herself from his teeth.

"And so the demon horse returns at last," Alduin said, appearing next to her. Shadowmere sent him a harsh look, but then Alduin chuckled and patted the horse on the neck. "As much as I hate to admit it, I am pleased to see you also."

Shadowmere's look was nothing less than suspicious, but then he nodded his head and some unspoken understanding went between the dragon and the undead horse. Ira frowned. "Did something happen while I wasn't looking?" She asked.

Alduin chuckled. "As it turns out, we get on well enough when we both are dead-set on finding you."

Ira blinked a few times, before shaking her head. "While I'll be damned." She turned to the nearest person and asked him to lead her to the city stables. He nodded nervously before turning away and pushing through the crowd, Ira and Alduin following with Shadowmere's reins in Ira's hand. "Where did Faramir disappear off to?" Ira queried as they walked.

"He was called away by one of his men," Alduin stated simply.

Nodding, the Dragonborn settled into a comfortable silence, absentmindedly stroking Shadowmere's nose as they walked. The man leading them to the stables bowed when they arrived, then fled from the scene as fast as he could. Ira chuckled. "I didn't realise the men of Middle Earth were so easily startled by the unknown."

"Was it not the same back in Skyrim?"

Ira shook her head. "No, not at all. Stranger things had walked the streets than a black horse with red eyes." Her expression fell, and Ira stopped walking, right by the open doors leading into the stables. "I cannot help but realise that everything I once knew is probably gone now," she said lowly. "The Eyra are no doubt already working on creating a new world, since the last one burnt."

Chuckling, Alduin shook his head. "If your world had died, chances are I would no longer be a dragon. My form changes with the worlds, and I never have the same form in two consecutive worlds. I have a feeling Nirn is still alive, for the moment."

Ira stared up at him in delighted shock, but then she scowled and hit him on the arm. "And why didn't you tell me this earlier? I spent the last Talos only knows how long thinking my birthplace was destroyed!"

Alduin shrugged. "I was slightly preoccupied, if you don't recall. First with finding out what was going on with the Eyra, then going on that godforsaken quest to destroy the Ring, then having to kill the mad half-god with a superiority complex, and now we're in the middle of a war when my wife is with child." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "But, in truth, I thought you were coping. I thought you were falling in love with this world enough that your old one didn't bother you anymore. I don't know for certain that Nirn still exists - while I've never had the same form twice in a row before, rules can be broken. I didn't want to give you false hope."

"I deserved to know, false hope or not," Ira said, leaning against Shadowmere's warm body, the horse hovering protectively nearby, sensing the sudden discord between husband and wife. "Please, in future, tell me about stuff like this. I'd rather know the truth than blunder in the dark."

Nodding, Alduin stepped up to her and took Ira into his arms, the Dragonborn settling into the warmth of his chest. Ira sighed, closing her eyes and letting herself forget about all the chaos that was unfolding around her, even if only for a minute. "I am sorry, lokaal," Alduin muttered.

"It's okay; your intentions were good, I know. I just don't like being kept in the dark."

Alduin chuckled. "I'll bear that in mind if this happens again. Now, come on, we have a horse to shelter."

Ira snorted, pulling away and sending her horse an amused look. "I wonder how the stableboys and other horses will react to him."

"Like usual, I guess - they'll give him a wide berth unless it is absolutely necessary that they go anywhere near him."

Ira nodded. "Yes, you're probably right." She then retook Shadowmere's reins and tugged him into the stables, finding an empty stall and putting the clearly irritated horse inside the pen. Ira gave him a stern look, to which he just huffed and turned his back on her. Ira laughed. "Well, _someone_ isn't very happy with me." She shrugged. "I'll give him some time to cool off." She patted Shadowmere on his rear. "See you later, buddy."

Ira started walking back towards the entrance of the stables, but then paused and turned around when she noticed Alduin was not with her. He was stood by Shadowmere's stall, gripping the post tightly, whole body wrought with tension. Apparently noticing her gaze on him, he slowly lifted his head, and Ira was surprised to see his eyes had been almost completely swallowed up by his pupils. Ira laughed quietly to herself. Alduin grimaced. "I warned you," he said defensively.

"Yes, you did," Ira replied, sauntering up to him and stopping less than a foot in front of him. "I didn't realise it would be quite _this_ bad though."

Alduin chuckled mirthlessly. "You want the truth? This is actually me holding back somewhat."

Ira's eyebrows rose. "Really?" He nodded. Ira felt her dragon purr at the thought that she was slowly driving him insane. She smiled up at him and placed a chaste kiss on his jaw. "I'd better not make you wait any longer, then." And in less than a second she was swept off her feet.

* * *

**And they're off again. I swear, those two are worse than Catholic rabbits right now...**

**Until next week :)**


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs**

**A/N: Okay, sorry for the slight delay, but in my defence I spent most of last week ill so I haven't really been able to do much writing. I coughed this chapter up mostly just this afternoon. Also, this chapter is kind of deep. Just, across the board. I think you'll see what I mean.**

**Big thanks to: FireheartNinja, argyrus and KnellaLuna for favouriting/following. ^_^**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: I'm going to let you make your own judgements... :)**

**Dragon Man 180: Okay, two points: One, your 'pink flying elephant' comment makes me laugh every time I read it. Two, you are aware Shadowfax and Shadowmere are both male... right?**

**snowbeard3: I'm glad it amused you :)**

**diabolo88000: Thanks for your imput ^_^**

**gabiey: Thanks, as usual!**

**KnellaLuna: Hmm, yeah, I'm still not 100% decided yet, although I'm erring towards a live birth simply because Ira's orginal form is that of a human, and it's her who has to carry and give birth to the child. But, we'll see. Thanks for your compliments, though. :) (I noticed you wrote your review only an hour ago, so hopefully this update comes as a pleasant surprise. Either way, just because it's such an odd occurrence (I think, anyways), I'm going to dedicate this chapter to you).**

* * *

**Chapter 48:**

The King's men made their camp atop the cliff that towered over the valley below. Theoden himself was standing near to the edge, looking down at all the white tents which had been pitched. Aragorn quietly came to stand beside him, wearing an expression of grim determination.

"Six thousand spears," Theoden announced. "Less than half of what I'd hoped for."

"Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor," Aragorn stated gravely.

Theoden sent him a hard look. "More will come," he said with confidence, but Aragorn shook his head.

"Ever hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat," he said lowly. "We have until dawn, and then we must ride."

Theoden stared at the Ranger for a long while, before slowly nodding. He then walked away. Aragorn stayed on the cliff, mulling over his thoughts.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Eowyn said as she stopped beside him. "Chances of success are slim, I know, but I fear we will face bigger casualties than we ever bargained for."

Aragorn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Eowyn pursed her lips. "I don't know," she admitted. "Yet I can't help but think _something_ is going to happen - perhaps something big enough to shake the very foundations of this earth." She glanced at him for a second, before asking, "Can I be frank with you?"

Aragorn shot her a surprised look, but nodded. "Please do."

"I am worried about the dragons," Eowyn said. "What if they turn against us?"

"Alduin and Ira would never do that - there is too much at stake within their own lives to take such a risk. Dragons are selfish creatures, but they aren't inherently evil."

"I didn't mean to imply that it would be intentional," Eowyn said quickly. "I mean... What if someone they truly care for were to get hurt, or worse, killed? What if their rage made them blind to who was friend and who was foe?"

Aragorn was quiet for several seconds. Then he sighed. "Then we have little chance of surviving an attack from them," he said. "But I have faith. Even in their beastial forms they have always been conscious of who and what they are, and they know well who is their enemy."

Eowyn shook her head. "Truly, I do not wish to have such doubts - I spoke with Ira only briefly, and she seems like a nice enough woman, if a little... boisterous. But I just... have a bad feeling, like I said before. Maybe I am interpreting it wrong." She shook her head. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No," Aragorn said quickly. "I am glad that you did. While it is unlikely to happen, we must be prepared for anything. Those two have lived through much, but even they are not invincible." He smiled slightly. "But know this; if anyone in the world were to be able to fight off guilt and grief in the midst of battle, it is those two. It is almost unnerving how they appear when they fight. Especially so when with each other."

Eowyn blinked. "They fight each other?"

Aragorn chuckled. "Yes, quite frequently. They are both extraordinarily skilled, however I don't think either one is any better than the other. They've been having a on-going competition for the better part of eighty years and apparently there is still no decisive winner as to who is better with a blade."

Eowyn smiled. "That seems incredibly mundane for people as powerful as them."

Aragorn chuckled. "They may be the children of Gods and they may be part dragon, but they're still people, Eowyn. We are lucky that they do not abuse the power rewarded to them."

Eowyn nodded. "Yes, you are right. My apologies."

The Ranger shook his head. "Don't worry - you are not the first to make such an observation, and doubtless you will not be the last." He grasped her shoulder gently for a moment, before walking back towards the camp. While he assured Eowyn they had little to worry about (and in truth, he agreed with his words) her concerns wouldn't stop ringing in his head.

...

Ira was stood on the tallest parapet of the citadel, staring down at the city below her. Denethor had at last seen reason and called for his soldiers to prepare for war, and so there was a great work in place as people bustled about creating barriers within the city to halt any attackers that broke into the city's lower levels. The catapults were loaded with round stones while many others were stockpiled behind to be used once the first ones were fired. Men were suited in their armour and armed with blades and bows and axes and any other weapons they could lay their hands on.

Ira was already sorted. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and her Dragonscale Armour had been freshly polished and fixed. Her sword sat at her waist, while various other small weapons were fitted into the nooks and crannies of her armour. In the darkness of the night, she looked like Death, waiting on the side-lines to be called in to collect the souls of those who were to fall in the coming battle.

"How many wars have you fought in, Ira?"

Ira glanced down to see Pippin's curly hair. He was staring out at Osgiliath, which was just as active as Minas Tirith. Ira had wanted to fly out there and attack the place, but Gandalf had instructed her to wait for the main battle, where the full forces of the orcs would be gathered into one area, and far more easily seen.

"Too many," the Dragonborn answered honestly. "Some are over in just a few battles, other take dozens of battles, thousands of lives and many years to end."

"And which of those do you think this war is going to be?"

"It could be either," Ira said. "If we win the battle here tomorrow, no doubt we will take the fight straight to Sauron's forces in Mordor. If we lose, the orcs will continue to plunder the entire world until it is all over. Even as we speak, chances are there are battles being fought in places of great interest to the Dark Lord. Mirkwood, Lothlórien, Dale, Erebor - all places in the North which will provide Sauron with an edge."

"Don't you have friends in Erebor?"

Ira smiled. "Many. But they have an advantage there, and Fili is keeping their walls protected and they are watching closely for enemy movements. No doubt any battle they have will be timed to fit with the one that is approaching."

"When will they attack?"

"Dawn," she answered. "I would wager that when we wake tomorrow there will be a hoard of orcs waiting for us, shouting and bellowing out war cries." She snorted. "Orcs have a funny fondness for attempting to intimidate their opponents before fighting them. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But for this battle it will give us an advantage - we can be safe in the knowledge that they won't attack until they have had the opportunity to flaunt their force's sheer size at us."

Pippin glanced quizzically up at her. "You know, I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Ira chuckled. "It was not meant to be reassuring, as such; I was merely informing you that you will have the opportunity to sleep peacefully tonight, if you wish to. And I suggest you build up your strength - no doubt this battle will take the majority of the day tomorrow."

Pippin bobbed his head. "Perhaps you're right." He glanced back at Osgiliath. "What are our chances of winning?"

Ira smiled. "Remember who we will have fighting against them - the armies of Gondor, the Riders of Rohan, the most elite group of warriors within the ranks of the dúnedain Rangers, the white wizard and two half-dragons. I would say our chances of success are better than our chances of failure."

Pippin laughed. "Now why couldn't you have just started with that?" He patted Ira's arm. "Goodnight, Ira."

"Sleep well, mal gein. And when the sun rises tomorrow we will draw our swords together."

Pippin chuckled. "That sounds like a line from a song."

Ira laughed and winked at him. "Perhaps one day it will be."

Pippin nodded, then turned around and went off to sleep, leaving Ira alone to her thoughts again. Once again her eyes drifted down towards the city, where innocent people were preparing for a war they had no part in, had no want for, and had no choice but to experience. Even from the highest point of the city, the sounds of drunken voices could be heard as the men revelled in this last night before Oblivion fell upon them. The sounds of laughing and squealing children as they made the most of being allowed out late harmonised the drunken songs and shouts. It was the calm before the storm.

Ira knew that peace such as this, even on the edge of war, would not come again for some time. If they won, it would take many months and years to repair the physical damages, and even longer to repair the emotional and mental turmoil. If they lost, none would be left alive to remember what peace felt like.

"Your stillness worries me," a deep voice said as Alduin stepped up beside her, providing support with his closeness. "Perhaps it is the moonlight making your skin so pale, or the lack of wind letting every hair hang without movement, I'm not sure, but you look like a ghost. You don't even blink, just keep your eyes on the horizon as if it whispers secrets to you." He glanced at her. "You are disturbed. What by? What's wrong?"

"I simply wish this to stop," Ira murmured, blue eyes flickering up from Minas Tirith towards the damaged towers of the distant river-city. "I wish to drift away into a world where this war is nought but a nightmare, one which will end when I open my eyes to warm sunlight and serenity." She glanced at him, a haunted look in her eyes. "Something is coming," she said. "I don't know what and I don't know who it will affect, but something big is on the horizon, out of sight but still there, waiting for the right moment to show its face. And I don't know if I will face the sun or an endless abyss. I fear for what dawn will bring down on our heads."

"What happens tomorrow happens," he said simply. "People will die, people will kill, and people will throw away their conscience in a fight for survival; such is the nature of war. Maybe something big _will_ happen, but we shouldn't worry about what we have no control over."

Ira suddenly spun around and pushed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hair. Alduin didn't hesitate before he returned the embrace, inhaling the scent of her hair as if to lock it away in his memory forever. "What if you get hurt?" Ira asked weakly. "I know we're dragons, but dammit, I have a horrible, horrible feeling that we won't come out of this unscathed." She shook her head, pulling him closer to her. "What will I do if you aren't by my side?"

Alduin gently pushed her away from him and then pressed his forehead against hers. "You will live," he said simply. "You will live and you will raise our child and you will find happiness. And one day we will see each other again, I promise."

"But who knows how long that will be?" Ira let a single tear slip from her eye. "I know I am not great at showing my love for you, but I would die inside if you were to leave me. Part of me is already starting to hurt, as if it knows I will have to deal with something far worse in the future." She clenched her eyes shut and drew in a shuddering breath. "For the first time in my life," she whispered, "I'm scared to enter a battle."

"Fear is part of being alive, Ira," Alduin murmured, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. "It is the very thing that feeds bravery. We need it; it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So wield your fear like a weapon. Let it remind you what you have to lose, so you may fight even harder to stop your fears from becoming reality."

"And if even that fails?"

"If that fails..." Alduin sighed. "If that fails then you can be safe in the knowledge that you could have done nothing else. We are not miracle-workers, dii lokaal. And as much as we might wish it, we cannot save everyone. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to ensure the safety of the masses. No matter who dies, whether it is you, or me, or some random guy who works in a tavern" - Ira let out a teary laugh which sounded more like a sob - "there is nothing anyone can do but know that what they did before they died could very well have kept other people alive. And that makes a worthy sacrifice."

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**I'm going to let you react to that however you want ;)**


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien.**

**A/N: I'm not going to lie... You're probably all going to hate me after this chapter. The war has finally begun! Also, I'm not going to put another author's comment at the end, just to let the events of this chapter sink in.**

**Big thanks to tyhmat and Chandler551 for following/favouriting!**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: You might want to withdraw that comment... Just sayin'**

**KnellaLuna: Sorry it wasn't quite as quick as last time, but hopefully the contents of the chapter in some way make up for it. I make no promises.**

**jsun25: Very true, my far-sighted friend ;)**

**gabiey: Thanks, as always! :)**

**Allard-Liao: Fair enough - I did not know that. Thanks for informing me, though :)**

**Dragon Man 180: Somehow I doubt a giant elephant tastes like chicken. I mean, I suppose it could, having never tried it before (I don't plan to either, just FYI), but it sounds a bit weird...**

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**Chapter 49:**

A tangible tension fell over Minas Tirith as the sun rose. The yellow sunbeams lay upon the land, unveiling the mass of bodies waiting beyond the city gates. Thousands upon thousands of enemies were waiting to deliver the stroke of the Dark Lord, when only a few hundred were ready to fight back. Amidst the orcs were trolls, beating great sticks on the drums they carried, which, along with the shouts and jeers of the army, created an intimidating noise that couldn't quite be called music.

Atop the highest point, looking out over the land, stood men and mythical creatures waiting for the war cry that would send them to battle. Gandalf, Faramir, Pippin, Alduin, Ira, and Denethor, all wearing battle armour, stood proudly above the rest of the city.

"What are we waiting for?" Pippin whispered to Ira, who glanced down at him with cold and emotionless eyes.

"The first attack," she answered. "We will not be the ones to start this battle."

"And yet we are the ones to decide the fate of this land," Denethor murmured. He glanced up at her. "Where are Theoden and his riders?"

"It is a long journey from Rohan to here, and they travel in great numbers," Ira answered. "They will come."

Suddenly the banging of drums came to a stop, and an eerie silence fell over the battlefield. Ira tensed, preparing herself for the attack that was sure to come. And it came in the shape of boulders. Gandalf rushed away then, mounting Shadowfax and galloping down the steps, yelling orders as he went.

"We await your orders, my Lord," Faramir murmured to his father, who sent him a stiff look, before facing forward again.

"Not yet," he said. "We wait for the catapults to stop - we do not want to get hit by our own weapons."

"Every minute we wait means more of your people getting killed," Alduin reminded him. "We cannot avoid this fight forever."

"Your priority should be the Fell Beasts," Denethor said. "We cannot defend ourselves against such creatures, but you can. You two will focus on killing every one of them."

Ira grit her teeth, but nodded. "As you wish."

They continued to stand silently as the chaos unfolded before them, and each second of stillness caused Ira's dragon to grow more antsy. She was struggling to stay still, hating that she had to wait, to stay at the side-lines even longer.

"Siege towers," Alduin announced lowly, eyes downcast as he watched the tall towers heading for the battlements of Minas Tirith.

Ira turned to Denethor, but he shook his head. "Not yet," he reiterated.

"We have no _time_ for dallying!" Ira argued, eyes ablaze and pupils morphing into thin slits. "If you will not do something I refuse to stand idly by as innocents lose their lives."

Denethor went to reply, but then Faramir called out, "Nazgûl!"

Ira's head whipped skyward, and she narrowed her eyes as she saw nine flying creatures heading their way. In an instant she and Alduin raced forward, hurtling themselves over the edge of the cliff even as their bones extended and shifted, and in seconds they were meeting their fireless cousins in fierce battle.

Ira's claws dug into the stomach of her opponent, and she heaved with all her strength, pulling the beast down towards the ground. As they soared downward she sunk her teeth into its throat, causing the beast to let out its first cry. Its great wings beat the air hard, slowing them down, before it twisted away and slashed at Ira with its own claws. Ira growled and released flames from her mouth, engulfing the beast's head and neck in fire. It squealed, ripping itself out of her grip. On its back, the Nazgûl was calm, directing the beast away from her. But Ira gave chase.

She slammed into the beast from above this time, pinning the Nazgûl down onto the beasts back and squeezing the demon hard in her feet, feeling ancient bones and metal crack and splinter. The Nazgûl let out a piercing screech, before Ira sent white-hot flames at the creature and sent it sailing through the air after ripping it from its seat. She then focused her attention of the beast, who had taken to spinning around in order to fight her off. Ira ducked her head down, bit hard into the beast's neck, then twisted her head sharply to one side, hearing the loud crack of bones and feeling the beast grow limp underneath her. With a grunt of effort, Ira grabbed hold of the beast and flung it away from her, watching with sadistic pride as it landed on the mass of orcs below her, crushing several under its weight.

A roar startled her from her distracted state, and Ira spun around to see Alduin had three beasts attacking him at once, two without riders. They were clinging to his hide, dragging him downwards. Ira shot towards her mate and husband, crashing into one of the three beasts and dislodging it. The beast slammed into the cliff rising up in the middle of Minas Tirith, bones snapping as it followed its comrade into Death's hands. Ira then launched herself at the beast with a rider. Her jaw closed around the rider's neck and she gave a harsh pull, disconnecting head from body, though she feared this wouldn't be enough to actually kill the demon. Still, she carelessly threw both halves of the Nazgûl away from her, dragging the beast off Alduin's back.

Alduin himself used the lack of weight on him to twist around and use both claw and wing to slice through the leathery skin of the beast attacking him, causing hot, red blood to flow from the creature's throat.

Ira blasted her own opponent with flames, keeping up a constant stream of fire until the beast started to falter in its flight. She used this new advantage to plant her weight on its back, sending it hurtling towards the ground. She released her grip on the beast when it was just a few metres above the ground, hovering in the air as she watched the winged creature crash into the ground and slide over several orcs in the process.

Ira glanced upwards to see there were only two winged beasts left, one of which was fighting Alduin, the other which was hovering over a particular part of the capital city. Ira flew towards the lone Fell Beast even as Alduin took down the other one, leaving it a smoking, smouldering carcass on the ground just shy of the city wall.

The two dragons flew together towards the final Fell Beast, only to pause mid-flight at the sound of a distant horn. They both turned their heads back, and there they saw a company of several thousand horses approaching the battlefield. For a few moments everything stood still as the men and women of Gondor and the servants of the Enemy registered the fact that Rohan's army had arrived, and with overwhelming numbers.

Changing course, Ira flew back towards the men of Rohan and landed on the far side of their ranks, while Alduin flew to join the other side. Ira felt herself tensing as Theoden rode along the front of his men, shouting out words of encouragement.

When the whole army roared out the word "Death" at the top of their lungs, Ira couldn't help but let out a ground-shaking roar, balancing on her hind legs and spreading her wings, making a spectacle of it so as to intimidate the orcs. The Fell Beasts were gone - either dead or having fled the battlefield - which meant that she and Alduin could focus on the main force.

As if thinking with the same mind, Alduin and Ira both let out Shouts, the sky above their heads instantly turning a mix of orange, blue and purple.

"_**Strun Bah Qo!**_"

"_**Gol Kren Yol!**_"

Flaming rocks began to fall from the sky, dropping onto enemy heads, while the thick, purple clouds started spitting lightning which also fell upon the orcs.

Taking this as some kind of cue, the army of horsemen rode forward, charging into battle with war cries, the sound of pounding hooves and swords being unsheathed filling the air. Ira pushed off the ground, soaring ever closer to the main bulk of the army, before letting a stream of flames escape her mouth. Screams and shouts and wails answered her attack, and Ira circled the battlefield before repeating the action, incinerating even more of the orcs. She wheeled around a third time just to see the war horses of Rohan collide with the front lines of the orcs, carving a pathway through instantly.

A sharp prick in her wing drew Ira's attention towards a stationary siege tower, from which several dozen orcs were sending arrows her way. Ira sailed towards the tower, catching it with her feet and breaking it in half, causing the aforementioned orcs to go flying to the floor. These were quickly swallowed up by more fire.

It wasn't long before the ranks of the Rohirrim and the orcs were too intermingled for fire to be of any more use, so Ira landed in an empty area of the field and shifted back to her human form, her black armour and slick hair making her look like Death as she ran towards the orcish ranks.

They met her blade with growls and curses in the Black Tongue, only to swiftly be silenced as her sword arced and sliced with painful precision, and Ira found herself drifting into her element, the sword in her hand becoming little more than an extension of her own arm. With each swipe and each jab she killed more of her foes, leaving behind a trail of orc bodies. Were anyone to pause for a moment to watch, they would see only a trail of black and silver and brown. Ira was moving so swiftly she became little more than a blur of movement, her eyes glowing with each strike of lightning above her head, and her hair shimmering in the orange light of the fire that still fell from the sky and still sprouted from Alduin's maw.

Ira paused when she noticed the orcs were fleeing back towards Osgiliath, raising her eyes to see great beasts she knew only from stories and legends - Mûmakil. On top of them were the infamous Haradrim, who Ira had never before encountered herself, but had heard stories. They were great archers and horsemen, and often used the Mûmakil as an intimidation tactic for their opponents. She could understand why.

Ira let out a shrill whistle, before continuing to carve her way through the ranks of the orcs, who were fleeing away from her now, no doubt to find cover behind the large Oliphaunts. She started to run towards the large creatures, noticing many of the surviving riders of Rohan were reforming their ranks in order to face off the massive creatures. As she ran, Ira heard the sound of pounding hooves, and paused just in time to prepare herself before leaping onto Shadowmere's saddle. The devil horse never stopped moving, thundering to join the Rohirrim line, and falling into place just before Theoden let out the cry for a charge. Shadowmere reared onto his back legs, letting out a loud neigh that was echoed all along the line, before springing forwards. Shadows started to form around his hooves as the horse charged forth, galloping faster than he ever had before under Ira's care. He quickly pulled ahead of the rest of the Rohirrim, and Ira held her breath as she neared the first beast, which towered at least forty feet above her head.

With all her strength, Ira swung her sword, creating a large gash in the leg of the closest Mûmakil, which groaned loudly in response. Almost instantly a rain of arrows came down upon her, but Shadowmere weaved about almost effortlessly, as if he knew where the arrows would land before they were even fired.

Ira and Shadowmere continued to dance around the Oliphaunts, even single-handedly managing to bring one down, before the missing Nazgûl which fled earlier sailed overhead with his Fell Beast. Alduin instantly flew in to intercept him, and the two began a battle of great intensity. Ira watched in concern, blindly relying on Shadowmere to keep her from being killed as she anxiously watched her husband battling.

Her eyes were drawn back to the ground when Shadowmere suddenly reared, standing up on his hind legs. She gripped tightly onto his reins and dug her heels into his flank, spinning him around and making him charge towards the river. The Mûmakil fell down dead behind them, missing Shadowmere's rump by less than four feet. The devil horse snorted in disdain, pawing at the ground, before rearing again, this time throwing Ira off his back. Ira glanced up just in time to see at least a dozen arrows piercing the horse's chest. Shadowmere let out a loud, other-worldly screech which grated against Ira's ears, before vanishing from sight in a black cloud.

For a moment, all she could do was stare. Shadowmere was gone. Not dead as such (he was already undead, so she knew he would be back before too long), but to see him disappear before her eyes had Ira's mouth hung open in shock. She stayed on the floor, propped up on her elbows, staring at the spot where her trusted friend of over five hundred years had taken fourteen arrows to the chest in order to save her life. A yell from an approaching enemy snapped her out of her daze, and she rolled across the floor just in time to avoid being sliced in half by a scimitar. Kicking her legs out, Ira hit him in the stomach, causing the man to double over, before she jumped to her feet and pulled a glass dagger from within the plates of her armour and slammed the blade down into his neck, effectively severing his spine.

A furious roar drew her eyes once again skyward, just in time to see a barrage of spears heading towards Alduin's body. While many rebounded off his scales, a few hit his wings, causing him to stumble in the air, if that were even possible.

Then, from atop a Mûmakil, a Haradrim leader launched another spear through the air, and Ira watched with growing fear as it sailed closer and closer to her mate. She could do nothing but watch as it splintered a few of the thinner, softer scales of his underside. Could only watch as the spear disappeared into his chest. Could only watch as her mate jerked, before he was sent crashing to the ground below. Ira could only watch as he came to a stop, having destroyed half the field from skidding across the ground, only to stay down. There was no sign of movement coming from her mate.

And that was when something in Ira finally snapped. All reservations flew out the window. All sense of humanity was smothered by the blinding rage and pain flaring in her chest. Common sense became little more than words with no meaning as the fire in her veins raged hotter and hotter. It burned with more intensity than ever before.

Ira fell into the back of her own mind as her dragon surged forward, hell-bent on exacting revenge. And a fate worse than death would be the reward to those who stood in her way.


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien or Peter Jackson**

**A/N: Not much to say about this chapter, except I'm kind of curious as to whether or not you'll cry at any moment. Just a warning: I'm going to spend three days next week watching all the Marvel movies I own with my friends (there's 11 of them), so that means three days less of writing. If I'm late for my update, that's probably why.**

**Big thanks to: Skeeto Transmark, Cresil-Zambini, lhugs and maddawg958 for following/favouriting. I'm glad people are still enjoying this :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Ah, well, the next bit might not go as you expected it.**

**jsun25: Ehehe... :)**

**lordrednight: Ira's child will be born living, because she was in her human form when it was conceived (also, not gonna tell you what the gender is yet, just in case you were curious). When she shifts her form, the child remains exactly the same because it isn't developed enough yet for it to be any different in human or dragon form. As it develops further, and most of its basic features are present, Ira will lose her ability to shift (again) in order to keep the child safe. Hopefully that clears things up for you.**

**Reviewer: Aww, thanks, that's really nice to hear. I'm glad you're enjoying it :)**

**Dragon Man 180: I don't think that'll taste very nice, to be honest...**

**Carelise682: I'm saying nothing...**

* * *

**Chapter 50:**

The battling men and orcs grew still and silent when Ira let out a strangled yell, fury resonating from within the deepest parts of her body. Her shift came without the usual fluidity; instead she exploded out of her human skin faster than one could blink, settling comfortably into her draconic body. Her blue eyes started to glow, and the gaps between her scales also began to pulse with the same light.

Wisps of gold and pink wound around her body, and the sounds of hundreds of roaring dragons, all echoing faintly, split the tense silence that had overcome the battlefield. The soul of every single dragon Ira had ever killed surrounded her now, singing out battle cries as, for the first time, they had the same goal as her. Their Overlord had been taken down. It was time for retaliation.

Ira began by tearing apart the human who had thrown the spear that grounded her mate, ripping her claws into his skin as she flew overhead, before mercilessly dropping him from five hundred feet up. Before he crashed to the ground Ira swept down and rained fire and death upon the Haradrim who rode the large Mûmakil, causing said great beasts to rear up in pain before tumbling onto the ground, crushing both enemies and allies as they tried to get away from the intolerable heat of dragon fire. Ira swept over them another few times, each time spewing flames from her maw, until the Mûmakil were little more than charred remains on the ground.

Once her thirst for revenge was at least partially sated, Ira dove towards the ground and landed heavily beside her mate, looking down at him with the same glowing eyes.

"_**Fen hi ni kriist? (Will you not stand?)**_" She asked, her voice deeper and resonating lower than usual. Another sign that the dragon was truly in control.

"_**Dii kiim, (My wife,)**_" Alduin rumbled, voice weak. "_**Zu'u laan dii kiim. (I want my wife.)**_"

Ira frowned. "_**Zu'u los hin kiim, (I am your wife,)**_" she murmured, lowering her head so it hovered just above his.

Alduin growled lowly and withdrew his head from her, narrowing his eyes. "_**Nid. Hi los dii brahdon. (No. You are my mate.)**_" When once again Ira tried to get closer to him, he shifted away, letting out a grunt of pain as he did. "_**Zu'u laan dii kiim, (I want my wife,)**_" he repeated.

Narrowing her eyes, Ira let her dragon slip back into the recesses of her mind, and the human part of her surged forward, causing her body to shrink back into her nord body, still covered in blood and dirt and scratches. Ira stepped forward slightly, resting her hand gently on Alduin's jaw. "You cannot get up, can you?" She asked quietly, eyes darting to where the spear was buried in his chest. She reckoned it had missed his heart by no more than a few inches.

Alduin huffed. "_**Nid, I cannot.**_" He looked down at her, his amber eyes zeroing in on the moisture gathering in her eyes. "_**Do not weep for that which was always coming,**_" he grunted, shifting slightly so he could angle his head towards her better. "_**You must do what you must - save those in need of saving, destroy those who mean harm. We will see each other again.**_"

"But how long will I be forced to live without you?" Ira asked, her hand gently stroking the spikes underneath his jaw. "You are my companion; my husband; my mortal enemy. My whole life always has and always will revolve around you. Without you, I am lost."

"_**You survived without me for over five centuries,**_" Alduin pointed out dryly, only for his entire body to then shudder as a wash of ice lay itself over him. It was the familiar embrace of Death. Of his end. But he knew his Father would delay his ending so he could say all he had to say.

"I didn't love you then," Ira murmured, resting her cheek against his.

"_**You still have a duty, dii lokaal,**_" Alduin stated in his deep, rumbling, now scratchy voice. He could feel the cold beginning to claw at his skin, waiting to tear him apart. "_**And a part of me lies inside you.**_"

Ira shook her head. "What good is a remnant of you without the real thing there to help me look after it?" She let out her first shaking sob, screwing her eyes shut as tears started to flow from her eyes. "I cannot let you go," she murmured.

"_**I am not asking you to,**_" Alduin murmured, letting the blackness finally start to creep in over his vision. "_**We will see each other again,**_" he repeated, voice wavering for the first time. "_**And when that happens, I expect you to be by my side in a second.**_" That was when the ice was replaced by burning fire.

Ira gasped and stumbled away from him, eyes wide and red around the edges as she took in the sight of orange cracks appearing in his skin. His scales were consumed by flames, peeling away before disintegrating to nothing, leaving little but a charred skeleton. Alduin jerked and writhed, eyes slammed shut as the agony burnt through him, as golden tentacles of light slithered out of his body and drifted up towards the sky. He threw his head back and let out a earth-shuddering roar, before the fire consumed what was left of his form and he melted away. Ira watched numbly as the last of his soul disappeared into the heavens.

The only thing that remained of him was the crater he'd left when he was brought down.

Ira stood still, staring at the place where he had been. Her mind fell blissfully blank. There was an emptiness in her heart; a numbness pounding her brain; salty tears which flowed unchecked from her eyes; and a feeling of sheer nothingness that took hold of her soul threatened to engulf her entirely. Her legs buckled, knees sinking onto the dusty earth as she continued to stare at the last place he'd been.

For once there was no movement inside her head. Her dragon had fallen strangely still.

Then his voice, speaking words from years past to the current time, began to echo in her mind.

"_Fighting with arms is such an odd sensation."_

_"Do you think I'll ever go back to my true form?"_

_"You really are reckless... And selfless. It's an odd combination."_

_"You're not exactly all sunshine and flowers, are you?"_

_"You can't go around thinking about 'what if's. You are who you are and you can't change that."_

_"Why would I want to change when I'm the best I can be already?"_

_"There's a war going on inside me, Ira, and it's all about _you!_"_

_"It seems the dwarf was not as strong as you believed."_

_"As much as I hate to admit it, I've grown fond of those idiots."_

_"What happened to adventures not being good for your health?"_

_"I will never forgive them if _you_die because of something _they_uncovered."_

_"Would they want you to risk your life to avenge their deaths?"_

_"One step at a time, Ira."_

_"We ought to go and see if Dwin's making a fool of himself yet."_

_"She's secretly still a teenager inside."_

_"What have you done to me, lokaal?"_

_"I'll never be able to repay you for what you've given me."_

_"I love you."_

_"Your little friend appears to have taken a nap on your shoulder."_

_"You're such an idiot."_

_"You thought I was dead."_

_"No man will ever be good enough for you, but I will try, if that is what you want."_

_"You are _not_going to die, you hear me? I won't allow it."_

_"Formality appears to be your greatest weakness."_

_"I tease you when you're childish."_

_"The mighty Dragonborn, taken down by a rock in the ground and a few children."_

_"Is that permission, my Lady?"_

_"No one, neither man nor elf nor God, threatens my family."_

_"Fear is part of being alive, Ira. It is the very thing that feeds bravery."_

_"We will see each other again. And when that happens, I expect you to be by my side in a second."_

Ira let out a heart-wrenching cry, digging her fingers into the crumbly, dry earth beneath her palms. Her whole body shook as the grief tore her apart, and she let out a loud sob. Ira was not usually a loud crier. But now she couldn't hold anything back. Her eyes stung as her tears mixed with the blood and dirt smeared on her face. As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream, her throat too tight to let much sound escape. The beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. She hit the ground hard with her fist and tried to scream again, but her voice was gone. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone.

...

Aragorn walked slowly through the battlefield, eyes sweeping for any sign of Ira. He'd arrived just as Alduin's body disappeared, and since then the Dragonborn had been the only person on his mind. He'd expected her to turn against their foes with all the ferocity of a dragoness in mourning, and so was surprised when he finally caught sight of her, knelt on the ground with her head down, unmoving as she sat in front of the large crater that Alduin's body had created.

Knowing better than to simply announce his presence, Aragorn moved silently towards the woman, reading her body signs to work out exactly when she noticed him. Her head moved ever so slightly in his direction, before she moved it back to its original position. That was all the invitation he needed to kneel down beside her, pull her into his arms, and gently rock her from side to side as she clung to him as if he was the only one keeping her grounded. He hummed quietly and waited for her grief to finally subside a little. It took a long while, but eventually her body stopped shaking, and she pulled herself away from him.

Without a word, Ira got to her feet, picked up the sword she'd discarded on the ground, and marched towards Minas Tirith. She did not look back at any moment. Aragorn watched as men from Gondor and Rohan gave her a wide berth, clearly expecting her to snap at any moment.

Aragorn knew better.

She was already too broken to break again. There was no life or light in her eyes. There was no drive behind her movements. They were mechanical, even if they flowed from one to the next like usual. Though she kept her shoulders back and her head high, Aragorn knew her automatic defence was to go on as if nothing had changed. She didn't let anyone see her in her moments of vulnerability. She continued to live her life as it had before, only with less vibrancy and vigour. It took anything between a few days and a few months for her to get over her grief enough for her to start _living_ again. Aragorn feared the years that would mark the rest of his life would not be enough to bring Ira back again.

"Will she be alright?" A timid voice asked, and Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to see Pippin and Merry staring after Ira, just like he was. The former was supporting the latter, who appeared completely exhausted, and there was a vicious burn on his right hand.

"I doubt it," Aragorn answered honestly.

"She won't go running off into Mordor for revenge, will she?" Merry asked.

The Ranger shook his head firmly. "No, if she was going to do that, she would have done so already." He sighed. "I think this time her bereavement has surpassed the point of rage."

"And what happens when that sorrow simmers down enough for her to think straight?" Pippin queried, frowning.

"I dread to think about such a time," Aragorn admitted. "For all her habits and routines, when Ira is lost in her emotions there is little anyone can do to predict her next action. We can only hope that, whatever it is, it will not mean her death."

"Is that likely?"

Hesitating for a moment, Aragorn lowered his head, pinching his eyes shut. Then, slowly, he looked back at his friends and said, with a haunted voice, "Extremely."

...

When night fell Pippin found Ira sitting at a window, legs pulled up to her chest, forehead on the glass, and her eyes directed up towards the stars. She hadn't cleaned herself since the battle, and so she was still covered in dust. Her hair had hardened where it had been saturated with orc blood, and her armour had certainly seen better days.

When Pippin began to walk towards her, Ira turned her head. Her eyes were open, but they looked at him as if he was a ghost that haunted her. One she had seen so many times she stopped fearing it, and instead just didn't care. For a moment, when she blinked, something akin to recognition flashed across her eyes, but then she turned her head back to the window.

"I'm going to make you its godfather," she said in a quiet, weak voice, handing resting on her still-flat stomach.

Pippin smiled slightly. "I'm honoured," he said, with genuine emotion in his voice, trying to evoke a like response. But all Ira did was blink again. Pippin sat himself on the other side of the window, tucking his legs beneath him. He suddenly had stupid idea, but it might help to get her mind back to its usual working order. "Hey, Ira? I want you to do something for me, alright?" Ira glanced down at him, eyes showing the barest glint of curiosity. "I'm going to start saying something, and I want you to finish it for me, okay?"

Ira blinked. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said impatiently, receiving a slight twitch in the corner of her lips. "Okay, let me think. I'm in a dark room..."

"It's small and the air is musty."

Pippin smiled. "I search the walls for a door, and find one..."

"The door is heavy and iron, and it won't open."

Nodding encouragingly, Pippin continued. "Under the door, I can see daylight."

"That means there's a chance I can escape."

"I look around me, but all I can find is a thin metal rod, a pin, and a piece of string."

Ira frowned, thinking through her next answer carefully, and Pippin was pleased to see some of the light coming back to her eyes. "I go back to the lock and check it. The key is still in the keyhole. Then I grab the metal rod and use it to push the key out of the door. It lands on the floor. Then I tie the pin and the string together, and use the string to swing the pin towards the key. It takes a few tries, but then the key catches on the pin, and I can pull the key into my room, under the gap in the door."

Pippin blinked. That was a far more complicated and thought-out answer than he was expecting, but he had to admit it was actually pretty clever. "Have you done this before?" He asked.

Ira smiled. "I used to be a thief - working out ways to escape became second nature after a while."

Pippin nodded his head idly, thinking up the next part of his story. "I put the key in the lock, but it gets jammed. I can't turn it, and I can't pull it out."

Ira's thoughtful frown appeared again. She was silent before she slowly said, "I put the metal rod in the loop at the key of the key and use it to twist the key free. The key breaks, but it is not longer stuck in the door."

"Now I'm left with a pin, some string, a metal rod and a broken key."

Ira smirks slightly, before stating. "I've actually done this before: I use the pin to unlock the door, and after a minute the lock slides back, and the door opens."

"Do you know what's on the other side?" Pippin asked her

Ira shook her head. "What's on the other side?" She asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

"It doesn't matter," Pippin said simply, and Ira blinked, sending him a bewildered look. "It doesn't matter what's on the other side of the door, or on the other side of a mountain. The point is you have to work out a way to get there first. There will always be obstacles in your way, and they will always be the things that try to get you to sit on the floor and give in, or turn back when the going gets too tough. But you've just proven to me you can unlock your door. It doesn't matter what's on the other side - because once you've reached your end goal, it becomes your choice. _You_ get to choose where you go next." He placed a hand over hers, noticing how cold it was. "I don't think he would want you to just give up. None of us do; we all know you're stronger than that." Then he gave her a mischievous smile. "And, just so you know, since you've made me your child's godfather, that means I have a secondary duty of care. Which means I'm not going to allow you to put it in danger. So that means eating. Come on, there should be some stew left over in the kitchens."

"I'm not hungry," Ira muttered, turning back to the window, where she started to look at the stars again.

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," Pippin said stubbornly, and Ira sent him a vaguely amused look. "I'll get Aragorn and Faramir to _drag_ you down there if I have to."

Ira stared at him for a long time - long enough to make the hobbit shift uncomfortably - but then she slowly nodded. "Alright," she agreed quietly, getting up from where she sat. Pippin beamed at her. There was still a dullness to her eyes, and she was still missing that spark in her personality he'd grown to love, but it was a start.

* * *

**Just so you know, I couldn't find a dovahzul word for 'mate' so I created one by combining the drocnics words for 'family' and 'companion'.**

**Also, the idea of the pin, string and rod came from one of the Wilma Tenderfoot books, so I can't hold claim over that one. I just thought it was smart so added it in.**

**Until next time!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs**

**A/N: I've felt productive the last two days, so I managed to cough this up in just a few hours. Feeling pretty proud of myself, actually. Which is weird, because it is literally a day earlier than usual. Ah well. Enjoy!**

**Big thanks to pingu-pekoni for following/favouriting :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Hehe, no problem ;)**

**Carelise682: Are you sure it wasn't the sad bit that made it great? And thanks for the hug :)**

**Aria-chanforever: I hope you DIDN'T cry for the whole week... That would make me feel kinda bad...**

**nitro740: I'm glad you thought I did a good job - I don't make a habit of writing scenes like that one, so it's really reassuring to hear you thought it worked well.**

**Skeeto Transmark: *evil laugh***

* * *

**Chapter 51:**

When Aragorn left the main citadel, he did so with a single purpose - to find the Dragonborn. She'd disappeared after Pippin had dragged her down to the kitchens and practically forced her to eat something, and no one had seen her since. Almost sixteen hours had passed since then.

Aragorn was not the only one in search of her; no, Legolas, Gimli, Faramir and the two halflings were also looking for their bereft friend. While the Ranger was not sure if it was wise to drag Ira back into the heart of war after what said war had taken from her, Gandalf was adamant that she should be present while they were making plans for their next move. Which was why the manhunt became necessary.

He searched for an hour, scouring the upper levels of the city, before a man in tatty clothes and bare feet ran up to him. "Lord Aragorn!" He cried breathlessly. "I've come from... the s-stables..."

Aragorn held up a hand. "Catch your breath first," he said with a kind smile.

The boy did so, taking a minute or so to calm his breathing down enough for him to form an understandable sentence. "The Lady Ira, sir," he said. "She's in the stables. I came to find you as soon as I heard you were searching for her."

Aragorn placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend." And without another word he was striding purposefully through the crowds, weaving his way through soldiers, healers and ordinary civilians. A few bowed their heads to him as he passed, but he did not acknowledge their respect. In his heart he knew he could not accept it while there was still an enemy at their doorstep.

Entering the stables provided no clear evidence that Ira was in there, however Aragorn trusted the boy's words, and so he wandered deeper into the building. He paused when passing a stall that didn't have a horse head poking over the top, and he glanced next to him to see Ira's horse, Shadowmere, lying down on the floor. Ira was leant up against his body, mindlessly singing a song in a nearly inaudible voice while stroking her horse's nose. She didn't look up at him when he entered the stall; didn't make any sign she had noticed him at all.

Aragorn sat himself down on the floor, leaning against the gate. He listened to the tune she sung, finding it to be rather haunting, until she fell silent.

Then, with a quiet and slightly husky voice, she spoke. "What could you possibly need me so desperately for?" She glanced up at him, lips turned down. "It must be important to have half a dozen people all searching for me."

"We are about to decide what our next move is to be," Aragorn told her softly. "We want you there."

"I don't want to fight in the next battle," Ira murmured, lying her head against Shadowmere's neck. "He wouldn't want me to put our child in danger."

"Neither would he want you to lose a part of yourself in the process," the Ranger pointed out, and Ira frowned, not looking at him, but clearly thinking about his words and being unable to comprehend their exact meaning. "Ira, you are a fighter. You always have been. Alduin" - Ira winced - "would not want you to put your child in too much danger but neither would he want you to throw away your very nature. You always want to fight for what you believe. And trust me, I do not think we can win this without you."

"You might have to," the Dragonborn muttered, scratching Shadowmere's forehead. The horse let out a soft huff, closing his eyes as he curled his head around to rest it on her legs.

Aragorn sighed, internally winced at the harsh words he was about to speak, but then said in a strong voice, "So that's it? You're going to let thousands of people die just because you selfishly decided not to fight? Let's say we come back victorious - how many wives and mothers and daughters and sisters are going to have to deal with losing their loved ones? How many of those loved ones could you have saved just by being there? We are the last line of defence against the world's biggest threat. Our failure could very well mean to downfall of the entire world. Thousands upon thousands of lives would be wasted because we were not strong enough to fight back." He got up, sending her a stony look, while she simply stared up at him with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. "You might be willing to let that happen, but the rest of us our not. We will fight to our last breaths because that is what we must do. You used to know that. You used to be prepared to do that. But you're not _you_ anymore. You're a disgrace to me, and the Rangers, and the Fellowship, and all of Middle Earth and all of Skyrim! You're a disgrace to your husband. And you're a disgrace to yourself." He opened the gate and shut it was a snap, pausing to look back just once more, ignoring the pang in his chest when he saw her eyes had welled up with tears. "Grief can do strange things to a person, this I know. But you are not the same woman we all came to love. You're just a stranger wearing a familiar face." And with that, he turned away and walked off.

He hated that he had to be so brutal with her, but he knew soft words and gentle reassurances would be no use. No, what she needed was the horrible truth. She needed the honest situation to be forcefully shoved in front of her face. He knew she would make him pay for his words sooner or later - hopefully not _too_ painfully - but she would ultimately be grateful towards him for snapping her out of her bereavement.

The others were all back in the main palace when he finally returned, looking at him with hopeful expressions.

"You found her, didn't you?" Gandalf said, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he looked the weary man over.

Aragorn nodded. "I did. It might take a while for her to join us, though."

"Why?"

"She didn't want to fight," he replied. "I had to beat the truth into her in a way I know she won't appreciate. She'll show up here, of this I have no doubt, but I couldn't tell you whether it will take a few minutes or a few hours."

"Hopefully it will be sooner rather than later," Gimli said gruffly.

Even as the words left his mouth the citadel shook, and the whole group faced the doors until they burst open a second later. Ira strode in, her hair immaculately tied back in her usual ponytail, black armour gleaming. She walked with fiery determination, and there was a fierce gleam in her blue eyes. She came to a stop beside Aragorn, caught his gaze, smirked wickedly, and then punched him in the arm. Hard.

"Those words were hurtful," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

Aragorn deadpanned, rubbing his arm slightly. "Nice to have you back," he grumbled, noticing that a few of the others were chuckling under their breaths.

"Yeah, well, all I needed was a rather hard shove in the right direction." She gave him a grateful smile, before turning to face the others. "So, what's the plan?"

"So far, we don't have one," Eomer stated bluntly.

Ira frowned. "Well, that's got to change pretty quickly." She looked towards Gandalf. "Do we have any idea how close Frodo, Sam and Eleniel are to Mount Doom?"

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf answered solemnly. "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring we would know it," Aragorn said strongly.

Gandalf huffed. "It's only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there!" Gimli said loudly. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf told him, and Gimli sighed. "I've sent him to his death," Gandalf murmured.

"No," Aragorn murmured. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli queried, furrowing his brows.

"By freeing the pathway for him," Ira said, smiling proudly at her friend.

Aragorn nodded. "We must draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. We will gather our full strength and march upon the Black Gate."

Eomer shook his head. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"You've got me now," Ira said with a chuckle. "That's got to mean something."

"Victory for us is not what I meant," Aragorn said lowly. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we can keep Sauron's eye fixed on us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas muttered, nodding his head slightly.

Gimli smirked. "Certainty of death... Small chance of success..." He laughed. "What are we waiting for?"

"Sauron will expect a trap," Gandalf said, frowning. "He will not take the bait."

"Oh, I think he will," Aragorn said with a grim smile. "Because he'll know who is coming. He knows who I am. He knows who you are. He knows who Ira is. Sauron assumes Ira will come to his lands seeking revenge, and if he knows of Eomer then he will assume the same of him. He thinks we are predictable, and we can use that to fool him."

"If you think about it," Ira said, lowering her eyes to the floor, "we have little more to do than ask ourselves one question. What more do we have to lose? At this point I'm inclined to say that we have a lot to lose, but we also have _so much more_ we can gain from this. And we all have something to fight for."

"You sound rather confident," Denethor said, speaking up for the first time. He was - unsurprisingly - sat on his chair. While he was clearly still alive, he also looked pretty battered - there were cuts and bruises covering his face, and no doubt there were more injuries hidden under his thick furs.

Ira smirked, but there was no mirth of lightness to it. It was cynical. "There is one thing that we have in abundance that Sauron does not."

"And what is that?"

"Conviction."

...

Eleniel groaned, moving to roll over, only to find her hands were bound tightly in front of her. She struggled to get her hands free, but the only thing she managed to achieve was irritating the skin on her wrists.

"Eleniel!"

She looked to her left and saw Frodo in a similar position. Both of them had been stripped down to their underclothes, and a cursory glance around the room revealed that their weapons and armour were dumped on a table. Their things were currently being picked through by a couple of orcs.

"What happened?" Eleniel queried groggily, wincing as a sharp thrill of pain shot through her skull.

"What do you remember?"

Eleniel frowned, thinking back, but it was like looking through mirky water in the middle of the night - she could see nothing. The last clear memory she had was reaching the top of the Secret Stair. "Um, nothing," she said with a frown. "The last thing I remember was just before we entered the tunnels at the top of the staircase Sméagol showed us."

Frodo's brow furrowed. "Then you've missed a lot. Gollum betrayed us, like Sam said he would. He was leading us up there to kill us. There was a giant spider." His frown deepened. "I think I was hit by the spider's stinger. I don't know about you, or Sam."

Eleniel stared at him blankly for a minute, then let out a huff. She turned to the orcs who were still sifting through their things, paying the hobbit and elf no attention.

"We have to get out of here," Eleniel hissed, wriggling her hands even more, gritting her teeth against the burning pain.

"It's no use," Frodo muttered. "They've taken the Ring."

Eleniel looked up at him with wide eyes and saw that, indeed, the Ring was not around his neck. She sighed and lay back on the ground. The two of them stayed in silence for a few moments, but then a commotion sounded from below. Eleniel lifted her head and saw that the two orcs had become one, and there were cries and shouts coming from below.

Frodo started struggling again, but the orc noticed and took a few threatening steps forward before snarling out, "Stop your squealing, you dunghill rat!" He drew his crude blade. "I'm going to bleed you like stuck pig."

"No!" Eleniel could do nothing but cry out as the orc raised its weapon, but then a shining blue blade appeared between its ribs, and Sam popped out from behind him.

"Not if I stick you first!" He said, throwing the orc off his blade - which turned out to be Sting.

"Sam!" Frodo cried in relief. Sam dropped Sting and knelt beside Frodo, getting to work on untying the knots keeping Frodo's hands bound. "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"Let's get you out of here," Sam said, ignoring Frodo's apologies.

"It's too late," Frodo said in despair. "It's over. They've taken it, Sam. They took the Ring."

Sam smiled. "Beggin' your pardon, Mr Frodo, but they haven't." He pulled the Ring out of his pocket, causing both Frodo and Eleniel to stare at him in shock. "I thought I lost you," Sam said, throat catching, "so I took it. Only for safekeeping." He held the Ring out to Frodo.

"Give it to me," Frodo said urgently, but the tone of his voice had Sam's hand drawing back a bit, and his brows started to twitch into a frown. "Give me the Ring, Sam." Sam hesitated again. "Sam. Give me the Ring." Sam sighed almost inaudibly, but then handed the Ring over to Frodo, who in turn placed it back around his neck. "You must understand," Frodo said. "The Ring is my burden. It will destroy you, Sam."

"Not that this isn't lovely," Eleniel said, frustration creeping into her tone, "but if you could hurry it up, it'd be much appreciated. I think my wrists are bleeding under all this rope."

Sam immediately started untying her hands, and they saw that her wrists were indeed leaking blood.

"Well, come on," Sam said with a smile. "We'd best get you both some clothes. You can't go walking through Mordor in naught but you skin."

"You don't know that," Eleniel said with a smile as she caught the tunic Sam threw her way. "Has anyone actually ever tried it?"

"Even if not, I don't think we should be the first ones to do so," Frodo said, smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Eleniel planted a mock-pout on her face. "Shame," she said. "It'd always been a life dream of mine."

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**Ta-dah!**

**Until next time!**


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.**

**A/N: Well, I'm going halfway across the country tomorrow, so I figured I'd make sure I got this updated early. So, here is the next chapter!**

**Big thanks to: Novafyre, shamwoohoo52, It. weaver666 (sorry for the space - it wouldn't work without it), silentnight00 and Iiznelomviing for following/favouriting.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: I think you seem to have forgotten that Eleniel's godmother is _Ira._**

**jsun25: Hey, some people are crazy. And they weren't buck nude - they still had a few clothes. I know Sam said otherwise, but they were still wearing the bare minimum.**

**Aria-chanforever: Hello! It is 'next time'! Hopefully it was worth the wait ;)**

**Carelise682: See...?!**

**Dragon Man 180: All will become clear in time (basically when Eleniel gets her memories back)**

**gabiey: Hi, it's been a while :) Glad to hear you're still enjoying this.**

* * *

**Chapter 52:**

"Do you have any idea how many people are absolutely terrified by that horse?"

Ira looked down from her perch atop Shadowmere's back and saw Faramir was walking calmly beside her, pulling his own horse by the reins. She grinned. "I probably have a better idea than you do," she replied.

Faramir shook his head. "Where did you even find him?"

Ira's smile withered and died in a split-second. "It's not a subject I like talking about much," she said. "A long time ago, I went through a dark stage. I did things I regret even to this day. Honestly, I feel like Shadowmere's the only good thing to come out of those days."

"I'm sorry if my asking made you uncomfortable," Faramir muttered, lowering his eyes.

Ira shook her head. "No, it's fine. Truthfully the main reason I don't tell people is because I don't want them to think any less of me."

"After all the good you've done, I think you're allowed to get away with a little bad," Faramir said.

Ira snorted, then laughed when Shadowmere did the same. "Alright," she said after a moment. "But you might find you want to take those words back by the end."

"Enlighten me," he said dryly, and Ira chuckled again.

She sighed heavily through her nose. "Back when being the Dragonborn was the closest I ever got to having a full-time job, it felt like I was drowning without ever being killed. I had the expectations of an entire province on my shoulders - the way they saw it, either I'd save everyone or damn everyone. When you're only in your twenties with little combat training to speak of, that's a heck of a lot of pressure to deal with." Ira frowned. "After a while the pressure became too much, so I disappeared. As far as the world knew, I was there one day and gone the next. And I didn't show myself again for ten months. But... Well, if you know what I'm like, you'll know I didn't spend those ten months hiding in a cave whittling cutlery." Faramir let out a snort of amusement, then fell silent to let her continue. "The first week or so I just wandered. Then I found myself in the city of Windhelm, where I came across a boy. Aventus Aretino. I've come to know so many people over the years and have forgotten what they were called and what they looked like, but I don't think I'm ever going to forget that boy. He was ten years old when he came up to me, thinking I was someone I wasn't, and asked me to kill a woman." Faramir looked up in surprise, but Ira couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead she kept her eyes resolutely forward as the procession of two thousand fighters ambled along the dusty plain towards Mordor. "She was an old woman - she was cruel and bitter, but she was an innocent. And I approached her while she slept and sliced her throat.

"Another week or so passed and I was contacted by a group called the Dark Brotherhood. They were assassins - contract killers. And I'd stolen one of their kills. They made me pay for it by taking another life. At that point my depression had gotten so bad I didn't care who it was. They ordered me to kill, and I killed.

"They took me in after that. Made me into one of them and taught me how to harness my skills. I was part dragon, and the constant stream of contracts kept my blood lust sated for a while. But then I was dragged into a job that was... well, it was the biggest they'd had for decades. I wasn't the only one - a man everyone called the Listener worked alongside me. So much death was dealt in preparation for the final stage. And when the man we were told to kill lay in a pool of his own blood, the Listener turned to me, placed a man on my shoulder, and congratulated me on my good work.

"It was then that I snapped out of my daze. I knew I'd gone too far, and I couldn't go further. So I left the Brotherhood under the excuse that I couldn't deny my Dragonborn duties any longer. And the Listener gave me Shadowmere as a parting gift." She fell silent. "I think they always expected me to go back. But I never did. Those ten months will haunt me for the rest of my life."

Faramir was silent for a long time, before he said, "Everyone who has ever lived or will ever live is a mixture of light and darkness. Good people try to hide their darkness, but that doesn't mean it's not there. It is." He looked up at her, and waited for Ira to finally drag up the courage to meet his gaze. There was no disgust there. No disappointment. Just acceptance. "You lost faith once," he said. "You lost faith and you fell upon the instincts of the dragon that resides in your soul. We all have those moments of weakness, where suddenly life becomes so overwhelming that we just want to run away and escape it. Admittedly, most people wouldn't go down the route that you did, but I sure there are far more that would than you'd expected." He shrugged. "And, like I said before, after all the gifts you've given this world and yours, I'd say ten months of darkness that occurred five centuries ago are excusable."

Ira shook her head. "You are disgustingly optimistic," she said in a joking tone, and Faramir grinned at her. "How do you have it in you to be so forgiving? Take your father, for example - he did nothing but beat you down your whole life, and yet you've given him a second chance. If I were you, I would have thrown that apology (and probably a fist or two) back at his face, said 'screw you' in a far less cordial manner, and then stormed out of there."

Faramir chuckled. "You wouldn't even have waited for the apology before you did all that," he muttered. Then he shrugged. "Sometimes it takes feeling like you have nothing to recognise the worth of some things. For one thing, my relationship with Boromir might have been very different if he hadn't needed to stick up for me all the time."

Ira hummed. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and after a few minutes Faramir drifted further back, taking his horse with him. Ira slipped back into her own mind as she thought through the endless number of possible scenarios that could follow. Most did, admittedly, lead to their army's defeat, but in truth Ira wasn't going into this battle with the intention of winning. She was going in with the intention of avenging the death of her husband and mate. Of proving she was more powerful than any servant Sauron could throw at her.

"You should not let yourself be plagued with such dark thoughts," Gandalf said as he eased Shadowfax next to Shadowmere (she knew that was one day going to get _very_ confusing).

Ira sent him a confused look. "You can't read thoughts, right?"

Gandalf smiled and shook his head. "No, I cannot. But a lot can be discovered just by watching you. The most obvious give-away would be the fact your dragon eyes are showing." His smile faded. "What are you thinking about, Ira?"

Ira pursed her lips, lowering her eyes as the feeling of being scolded like a child settled over her. "Vengeance, mostly," she admitted.

"Vengeance is a dangerous weapon to wield," Gandalf murmured. "In your right hand it provides you with a reason to survive. In your left hand it will turn against you. And it is not the wielder who gets to decide which hand they hold it in."

"I care not whether my desire for revenge kills me or helps me live," Ira answered coldly. Then her face and voice softened. "He would have done no less for me."

"I know," Gandalf said with a sigh. "That is what concerns me." Ira frowned at him. "You do not have to prove anything, Ira. Not your love for him, nor your hatred for Sauron. You don't have to prove your prowess with a sword nor your fury in the air. Your strength has already been made apparent a hundred times over. Do not let your anger blind you to the threats around you."

"Fear wakes us up to what needs to be done," Ira murmured. She turned to Gandalf, seeing his brows were furrowed in confusion. "It was one of the last things he ever said to me," Ira said. "I think dragons react to rage in the same way humans react to fear - it wakes them up, sharpens their senses, increases their awareness of the things going on around them."

"I won't try to claim I know how a dragon's mind works," Gandalf said, "but you are still part human and I _do_ know that a man who is grieving is less likely to know when he has pushed himself too far."

"I know my limits," Ira replied stonily, her eyes darkening slightly. She hated it when people openly doubted her. It struck a chord deep within her that caused angry sparks to fly. She'd already blown up at Fili for expressing his care for her through concern for her safety.

Gandalf sighed, realising the futility of his efforts. "Well, then I hope you don't force yourself to exceed them." And then he fell silent, and she fell silent, and there was suddenly a great rift between them. Years of friendship became strained. Ira felt herself slipping from reality as she moved further from the grasp of her friends. But she'd set her path and could see it laid out before her. She would not stray from it, and no one would convince her otherwise.

...

"You should get some sleep, Ira."

Ira sighed, turning her gaze down from the heavens and directing it towards the Ranger who she would soon pledge her undying loyalty to as her King. "I haven't let myself sleep since the battle," she said. "I would rather take exhaustion over exhaustion _and_ nightmares. Not to mention I doubt the rest of the men would appreciate being woken by me." She shook her head. "No, I'm fine how I am."

"You know, by lack of trying, you might as well be signing yourself over to Death Himself."

Ira groaned. "Why is it suddenly everyone thinks I'm incapable of existing?" She snapped, feeling that deep pang of anger again. "I lost the man I love; I haven't given up on life altogether."

"But you did," Aragorn said softly, and Ira snapped her mouth shut, eyes still blazing with annoyance. "You let go of everything when Alduin died." Ira winced at the sound of his name. "Every one of us knows a big part of you died with him. It was the part that controlled your other half - the half you're now giving free reign. And it's going to get you killed, Ira." He let out a rough sigh. "You're not alone in your grief," he said. "The rest of us may not have had the same connection that you had with Alduin" - Ira winced again - "but he was still our friend. We will fight in his name, but we will not do so because we are avenging his death. We do it to honour his life. To honour the friendship we made with him. I think you, of all people, should know the value of choosing to remember his life instead of hanging onto his death." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Get some sleep, Ira. We've still got four days of travelling ahead of us." Then he turned and walked back to his bed, leaving Ira alone in the darkness.

She stayed where she was for several minutes, head bowed, eyes glimmering with tears. She knew Aragorn was right. She was losing a fundamental part of herself, but she didn't know how to catch it before it went beyond her reach. She felt like she was tumbling into an abyss, with the light chasing after her. She couldn't stop herself falling and she couldn't climb back towards the light. She just kept sinking deeper and deeper, with the light never moving closer or further away. Just out of reach. The thing that hurt most was the fact that Ira knew the one person who'd be able to help her out of this pit of endless darkness was the one who'd inadvertently tossed her in there in the first place.

Eventually Ira turned away from the night sky and trudged back to where she had laid out her bed roll. The snores and deep breaths of the men around her created a tuneless symphony that was somewhat soothing on her ears. And even though she feared what the night would entail for her, Ira let herself drift off into the world of dreams with the hope that she wouldn't meet any monsters on the other side.

It was a useless hope.

* * *

**Another week down, another chapter down, another step closer to closing time. Yep, I'd say I'm nearing the end of this fic. I don't know how much more I'll write, but I can't imagine it'll go too far beyond the events of the movies/books.**

**Until next week, lovely readers :)**


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. the rest belong to either Tolkien or Bethesda**

**A/N: Hi guys :) How have you all been? I have to say I have been planning the next few chapters of this story like crazy, and I've got to admit I'm liking it. The next step is just to put those ideas into words. But, here is your weekly update!**

**Big thanks to: aRabidHobo, Heavenian, booklover2014 and lightninghawk101 for following/favouriting. It's nice to see this fic is still catching some attention, even after 130,000 words and 52 (now 53) chapters.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: I make no promises either way ;)**

**Alastair279: The other dov don't want to get involved, and Ira respects that choice.**

**jsun25: 1: Think back to the beginning of Dragons of the North (it was a long time ago, I know). What happened to Alduin then? ;) ****2: Maybe - I haven't decided yet**

**Dragon Man 180: Unfortunately for you, I'm NOT going to make him come back as a pink flying elephant. Sorry, man. As for the other thing... Well, the time before this it took over five centuries for Alduin to be reborn... Think about that.**

**gabiey: The wait is over!**

**Mac Gustah: Now there's a name I haven't seen for a while (since chapter 41 - I went back and looked because I'm sad like that). I'm sorry about whatever shenanigans happened in your life (and schoolwork - I feel your pain), but it's good to hear from thou again. Also, yes, I killed Alduin. DEAL WITH IT! Also, from what I can gather, I stole your masculinity from you when you cried. Again... Why does this feel like it's becoming a recurring theme?**

**carelise: I'm getting lots of hugs from you... It's nice :3**

* * *

**Chapter 53:**

_The dark surrounded her, seeping into her pores and infecting her blood and filling her lungs. She felt compressed - like she was being squeezed from every side. Breathing became almost impossible. Movement was little more than a distant memory. Her ears felt muffled and she might as well have had no eyes with how little she could see. The rest of her senses were just deadweight. There was nothing to see, or hear, or touch, or taste, or smell. There was just... an abyss. Endless blackness._

_She stumbled blindly, groping the empty air around her, her fingers seeking a familiar touch more than anything. A light started shining a few feet in front of her, growing in size. It whizzed around, creating a blurred circle around her. It drew closer and closer, and she started to feel hot. It's grew hotter the closer it got, and by the time it was within a foot of her body she was sweating like she'd spent hours running in a desert. Whenever she tried to shift away from the light, it edged slightly closer to her, and eventually she just stayed completely still, hoping this would mean the light would stop threatening to burn her skin so much. Certainly, the light didn't seem to want to move any closer._

_And then, like a candle that was snagged by the wind, the light went out. It didn't flicker or fade, it was just there one second and gone the next. A tingle of trepidation began to form._

_What would come next?_

_As if responding to her thoughts, a pale figure shimmered into view. They looked like a ghost. They were a white, cloud-like figure whose eyes and mouth were as black as the night sky. But unlike the night sky, there were no stars in those eyes. No, there was just darkness. An abyss. The ghost was more silent than the grave it arose from, staring lifelessly forward with heavy-lidded eyes and a slightly slack mouth. Its pale cheekbones accentuated the skeletal look and in the depth of the ghost's gaze her mind was robbed of emotion. Instead of running or screaming, she stood more still than a statue, and just as cold. The figure beckoned with fingers that rapidly faded from skin to bone and back again. There was a moment when the ghost flickered out of sight for a second, only to reappear in a more solid form, but this time its skin bore many silver scars, thick and jagged. The skin was pale. Red hair, like dirty copper, hung limp and tangled in uneven clumps. Purple lips. Glassy eyes. Pointed ears. A broken bow dangled loosely in her right hand._

_Then, there was a shout, splitting through the heavy darkness with all the force of a whip._

"Ira!"

_The ghost faded away, leaving nought but darkness._

"Ira, wake up!"

Her hand stretched outwards, fingers clamping over the first thing she could touch, which happened in this case to be a bearded throat. She blinked, eyes clearing, and then jumped back, removing her hand from around the dwarf's neck.

"Sorry," Ira mumbled weakly, rubbing her eyes.

Gimli stared at her for a few seconds, idly massaging the skin of his throat. "You alright, lass?" He finally asked. "You look pretty shaken."

"I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "Just a... strange dream."

"Good strange or bad strange?"

"I..." Ira frowned thoughtfully. "You know, I haven't a clue. It was just... well, it was just odd." She shook her head, before looking around and seeing that around a hundred of the soldiers were now up and about. "I guess we're gonna start moving soon, huh?"

Gimli nodded. "Within the hour," he said, before sending her one last look and then trudging away.

Ira watched her friend leave with a pang of regret in her heart. She could feel him pulling away from her. They were all doing it, except perhaps for Faramir and Aragorn. Aragorn had seen her through her darkest days, and Faramir was too good-natured to let her wallow in her self-pity and grief.

Honestly, Ira had almost given up. Without Alduin's presence acting as a constant reminder, she often forgot she wasn't alone. She sometimes forgot she carried life within her womb. She spent more time than not thinking about her own quest, rather than worrying about her goddaughter, whereas before it was undoubtedly the other way around. She normally wouldn't have let her friends move so far from her without fighting back. But she was just so _tired_. That dream life she created with her husband - where they were living alone in a nice but simple house, raising a family, working to keep themselves alive - was looking ever more appealing. Except it was missing the most important factor.

But Ira finally had been forced to realise just what she was losing by spending her life going on adventures. She'd already lost Amicitia and Thorin and Alduin. She would fight to the end of this war to keep the rest of her family and friends safe, but then she would settle into the wilderness and find a situation where she wasn't putting her friends' lives under threat. No more adventures. No more quests. No more life or death. It was time to step back and let someone else fill her spot.

While lost in the musings of her own mind, Ira had missed the conversation going on around her that she would have liked to hear, if only to defend herself.

"She is sinking further than we can reach," Gimli grunted, leaning on his axe. "At this rate, she won't have any will left to survive."

Aragorn shook his head. "She's just grieving," he said, defending the woman he often thought of as his own sister. He'd never told her this, as she would constantly remind him that she was five centuries older than him, but she was a woman who protected him, and who he protected in return, and who he could joke and laugh with, or turn to when he was feeling too weighed down by his life. She had always been there for him when he needed her. It was his turn now, but he wasn't sure what to do.

"This is beyond grief," Legolas murmured. "It is common amongst my kind. She is-"

"Fading," Aragorn finished dejectedly.

"And what does that entail?" Faramir queried, looking in concern at the Dragonborn, who seemed deep in the depths of her own head.

Legolas sighed through his nose. "When an elf finds love, it is eternal," he explained lowly. "My kind are gifted with only one love in their entire existence. When an elf's partner dies, they can sometimes go into a state of severe shock. They lose contact with the world around them, and they stop noticing the little things that made them happy before. After a while, it starts to take its toll, and their bodies give in."

"Suffice to say that 'fading' is the most literal meaning of the concept that is dying of heartbreak," Aragorn muttered lowly. "Now, I don't know if it's the same amongst dragons, but what I do know is that Alduin and Ira shared a bond far stronger than they ever allowed anyone else to see. They used to be arch enemies, but on the inside they were absolutely perfect for one another. Perhaps losing him will be enough to tear her from us completely."

"She is not allowing us to help her, that's the problem," Gimli argued. "Nothing we say hits home."

"The Ira we once knew and loved is still in there," Aragorn said tersely. "She makes an appearance from time to time. We have to make use of those times; try to keep that version of Ira at the fore for as long as we can. Maybe then we can pull her back out of her despair."

"She will not be caught if she doesn't want to be," Legolas muttered, shaking his head. "Really, whether or not she is able to come back to us is based on her decisions, not ours. If she chooses not to cooperate, there's not much we can do."

"If anyone were to pull through from something like this, it would be her," Faramir said strongly.

Legolas nodded his head for a moment, paused, then shook it. "I used to agree with you," he said, glancing at the Dragonborn who was finally getting to her feet. "Now I am not so sure. She is unaware now of many things that have happened around her."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact she hasn't noticed Ghardaz has not been here since after the battle at Helm's Deep," Gimli grumbled. "Normally she would notice the difference instantly. She has been distracted."

"She has a child under her heart, you cannot blame her," Aragorn murmured, watching as Ira walked away from the camp, a rosy red apple clenched in between her pale fingers. "And anyone would be bereaved after the death of someone so important to them."

"And yet she acts like she has no one left in the world who she needs or who needs her," Legolas reminded him. "If we are to be able to help her at all, we have to show that we're still there for her."

"What she needs is closure," Faramir said, eyes downcast and his brows furrowed.

Aragorn suddenly perked up. "I have an idea," he said, and everyone turned their expectant gazes his way.

...

They made good progress that day, but by the time night fell the whole army was exhausted. Men fell into their bed rolls as soon as they had finished eating, and within an hour the camp was a symphony of snores and heavy breathing, along with the occasional crackle of the several dozen campfires they'd lit.

Once again Ira found herself standing on the edge of the camp five hours after it had been set up, looking up at the night sky above her head. She was unsurprised when Aragorn came to a stop beside her. "I thought I would find you here," he said.

"The sky brings me comfort," Ira answered in return, though there was a certain distance in her voice.

Aragorn let out a sigh. "Ira, there's something I want to show you."

Ira frowned, looking over at her friend. "What is it?"

"Can you just trust me? Please, Ira."

Ira blinked, slightly offended. "Of course I trust you," she said strongly. "How could you ever doubt that?"

Aragorn sighed. "You've been different ever since... I didn't want to make any assumptions."

"Alduin's death doesn't change anything," Ira said, her voice slightly icy even though she flinched upon saying his name. "So, what do you want to show me?"

Aragorn smiled at her, before walking away without a word. Though he couldn't hear her, he knew that she was following him. They walked for ten minutes in silence, and in that time the only thing that changed was that Ira moved to walk beside him, instead of trailing a little behind. The said nothing, and Aragorn could tell that Ira was deep in thought yet again. She did that often - disappeared into the recesses of her own mind. He was starting to wonder what could possibly hold her attention for so long, but the more he thought about it himself, the more he realised he probably didn't want to know.

"Ira, I'm about to tell you something, and I don't want you to interrupt me, okay?" He said suddenly, breaking the easy quiet that had settled between them.

Ira glanced over at him, clearing the slight fog from her eyes as she came back to the real world. "Of course," she said quietly.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but we're worried about you," Aragorn said. "Some of us more than others. Legolas actually is starting to fear that you're Fading." Ira's lips pursed, indicating she _really_ wanted to say to something, but she dutifully kept her silence. "You need to know that you are not alone in your grief. Admittedly, you're likely grieving enough for the rest of us combined, but you're not the only one who lost someone important that day. He was a part of all of our families." He shook his head sadly. "Alduin never deserved the fate he got, but that won't change the fact it happened. He died in battle, and because of that he was never properly commemorated." He smiled as they turned a final corner, moving around a large rock, and Ira suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

In front of them, carved fifty feet high into a nearly sheer cliff, was a tribal outline of a dragon. It had been burnt black, and beneath it, in large, familiar letters, was his name and title in the dragon script - Alduin, World Eater.

"I didn't know any of you knew our language," Ira said through a tight throat, after getting past her initial shock.

Aragorn chuckled. "Learning an alphabet is different to learning a language." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go on," he said quietly, and Ira stared at him for a moment, tears prickling in her blue eyes, before she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear, before pulling back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and then turning towards the large mural. Aragorn watched with a smile as she walked closer to the rock, staring up at the carving.

As Ira moved, she became aware of the eyes on her, so she turned her head to see a large gathering of people standing slightly to the side. Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin and Gandalf formed a line, smiling at her gently. Ira stared at them in shock, before facing the mural again. She pressed her hand against the letter 'a', bowing her head as the thought that _he was gone_ finally settled itself into her mind.

And then he was there in her head, whispering those same words he'd told her the night before the battle that would claim his life. "_You will live and you will raise our child and you will find happiness._"

It was as if those words were spoken as his dying wish, and as much as she hated to admit, Aragorn was right. Alduin died in battle, sacrificing himself for what he himself had called a worthy cause. And even though the thought that he was gone tore her to pieces, she knew she could _never_ let that sacrifice be in vain. He had promised he would be back, and she believed him. First, she just had to reach that point.

"_**Zu'u fen saraan fah hi fah Zu'u ni laan naan nunon hi, (I will wait for you because I don't want anyone else,)" **_she whispered, before squaring her shoulders, wiping the tears away from her eyes, and turning away from her friends. She saw their looks of disappointment, and so paused. She glanced over at them. "You should all get some sleep," she said. "We have a war to fight, after all." And then her face split into a grin as their faces became awash with relief. She sent them a single, small salute, before marching back to the camp.

Ira liked to believe that everyone died for a reason. Sometimes it was to give someone else a new chance of life. Alduin sacrificed himself so she and their child could continue to live until he made it back to them. She waited 523 years after the last time Alduin died before she saw him again. If she had to wait just as long this time, she would do so willingly. It was a promise she made herself as she settled back onto her bed roll. She had to make the most of her life in order to make the sacrifice he made worthwhile. He deserved that, at the very least.

* * *

**Voila! Have a good rest-of-Sunday, everyone!**

**Until next weekend ;)**


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclimaer: I only own my OCs.**

**A/N: SURPRISE! I had an amazingly productive few hours yesterday and managed to write this whole chapter within that time. I figured 'what the hell?' and decided to post it immediately. :)**

**Big thanks to Aetherial Guardian for favouriting :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Hehe, thanks ;)**

**shamwoohoo52: That I am XD**

**Mac Gustah: How would you react if I told you Fluffy was 'borrowed' by a man in a big fur coat and hasn't yet been returned to me...? As for the mural, well, they had five hours and several people all working on it at once... And one of them is a dwarf... That should be reason enough, I think ;) Also, the Templars are my friends, so, that's not going to work... P.S. Tacos**

**gabiey: Well, wait no longer!**

**jsun25: Yeah. Since Alduin technically can't be permanently killed, his Shout is still in place. Unfortunately, until he can regain his strength, there's nothing he can do about protecting her but trust she can get herself out of it on her own.**

**ROWDYKADEN: I honestly don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...**

**Dragon Man 180: Alduin regains his strength by consuming human souls... And after the whole incident with Skyrim burning constantly there are more than likely to be a few of those... :)**

* * *

**Chapter 54:**

The dust invaded her lungs, making it incredibly difficult for Eleniel to breathe. The ground was hot beneath her feet, and a lack of water and food meant her limbs were weary. But she was not as bad as Frodo, who could barely stay standing. Sam and Eleniel had finally taken hold of an arm each and began tugging him along, their breaths heavy and laboured.

They had finally reached the base of Mount Doom, and while the doorway into the volcano was visible, it was still a long way up.

Eleniel let out a groan as her knees gave out momentarily, causing her to slip on the dry, ash-covered soil. Frodo cried out as he also fell, and Sam yelped as he was wrenched to the side.

The lack of sunlight was taking its toll on the elleth, who, even though she lived inside a mountain, at least had the option to go out into the light. It had been days since she had last stood under the warmth of the sun, or the gentle glow of the moon. She had become sickly, her skin having so little colour to it that she looked almost like a ghost. Her limbs shook as her body begged for some form of light that wasn't the blazing inferno above them.

"Eleniel!" Sam cried in alarm, carefully draping Frodo on the ground and scurrying to her side. Eleniel's breaths were coming out as loud wheezes now, and her arms shook with the effort to keep herself supported.

"Go," she gritted out. "Go ahead. I'll follow just... Don't let me hold you back. We're almost there."

"We promised to keep you safe," Sam whispered, eyes downcast.

Eleniel smiled weakly, looking through tired eyes at the hobbit. "You're going to save the world, Sam," she whispered. "That _is_ keeping me safe, in its own way." She nodded to Frodo, who was practically clawing his way up the side of the mountain. "He needs you, Sam, more than he's ever needed anyone else, nor will ever need again. I promise to follow."

Sam looked unconvinced, but at the pleading look in her eyes, he reluctantly relented, moving to help Frodo up again. Eleniel was glad they didn't look back before disappearing from view, because as soon as they were out of sight her façade dropped, and she fell flat on the ground. She didn't care about the fact the ash was filling her nose, or that there was a sharp rock digging into her ribcage. All she wanted to do was sleep. So she slipped in the recesses of her mind and willingly walked into the embrace of the dream world.

...

Shrouded in black, hooded cloak in tatters, Ira approached the Black Gate of Mordor. Her ebony horse with eyes of glowing crimson gazed up at the gateway into Oblivion, and from within the shadows of the hood, another pair of eyes, lined with black, stared unwaveringly ahead.

"_**Het Zu'u kriist, aar do hin hokoron. Zu'u bo voth rot do kein. (Here I stand, a servant of your enemy. I come with words of war.)**_" The voice that resonated from beneath the hood was strong and powerful, and from within it came the power of the Gods, the Thu'um shaking the very foundations of the land.

The words were met with nothing but silence, the orcs on top of the gate gazing down at the lone rider, pondering whether or not simply to loose their arrows at her. But then, in a great mass of metal and leather, came the armies of Rohan and Minas Tirith, combined in one to form the force that would decide the final fate of Middle Earth.

At the lead was Aragorn, dressed in the armour of Minas Tirith, the white tree of Gondor showing clearly on his chest. While the rest of the army came to a stop several metres away, Aragorn urged his horse to move next to Ira's shadowed figure.

"Where are they?" he murmured.

"Waiting for the opportune moment," came the reply, and this time the Dragonborn sounded far more human. "Either that, or it is not me to whom they will respond."

Frowning, Aragorn urged his horse into a canter, heading for the Black Gate. Ira and Shadowmere followed, and were swiftly joined by Gandalf, Eomer, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli and Faramir. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn shouted. "Let justice be done upon him!"

After a second the gate groaned, the doors slowly starting to slide forward. Sauron's army were marching towards them, outnumbering their own force by at least five to one. Aragorn turned his horse away, racing back towards his army, and the others followed. Ira was the last one to trail behind her friend, eyes morphing into thin slits as the Eye of Sauron focused its fiery gaze upon her, and her lip curled over her teeth as she let out a vicious snarl. Then Shadowmere spun around and chased after his kin.

The group dismounted their horses and sent them on their way, while Aragorn stayed on horseback, drawing his sword and addressing his men. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" He ordered, and the blatantly fearful men steeled their nerves. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, men of the West!" The men drew their swords and hollered out battle cries, their combined voices completely drowning out the jeering taunts of the orcs. Aragorn finally sent his horse away, before turning to Ira. He sent her a smirk, then nodded towards the army. "Ladies first," he said with an illogical amount of glee, causing Ira to roll her eyes under the shadows of her hood.

"How very thoughtful of you, my Lord," she replied mockingly, before shaking her head and stalking calmly towards the orcish army, which watched her with eager, beady eyes. As she walked, she muttered the final verse of a poem she vaguely remembered hearing one of her comrade-in-arms muttering to himself the night before a great battle that would rage over much of Eastmarch. "_**Fod tuz lovaas ahrk muz rein, ahrk sos qah frod do kein, fod ney kul muz ahrk vokul muz dir, dahmaan daar hi krif fah. (When blades sing and people cry, and blood fills the field of war, when both good men and bad men die, remember those you fight for.)**_" It was a beautiful thought, really - that even amidst the chaos of battle, the mind automatically turned to those who silently urged you to keep going, even when fatigue was trying to drag you down.

Upon reaching the centre of the empty land between the army of men and the army of orcs, Ira stopped. Her eyes gazed directly at the tower upon which Sauron's essence had taken refuge, before she grinned. And it was the kind of grin that held within it so much power and confidence that even the Dark Lord would doubt himself for a moment. And then her body began to shift, her human skin disappearing, only to replaced by gleaming burgundy scales. As her body morphed, the army in front of her began to cower in fear at their newest opponent. Clearly they had not been informed of just what they would be up against.

Ira's tail thrashed against the ground, creating a neat little dent in the cracked, hard earth.

Ira narrowed her eyes at the army in front of her and drew herself to her full height before bellowing out an ear-piercing, ground-shaking roar. She pushed off the ground with her rear legs and sailed into the air as the Gondorian army surged forward, moving to meet their snarling and growling opponents.

Within seconds the Nazgûl came out from hiding, riding their fell beasts. These were somehow larger than their predecessors had been, and they were a dull purple instead of grey in colour. Ira met them in battle in a flurry of white-hot flame and sharp claws.

The first was knocked out of the air with a single hit, crashing into a corner of the Black Gate and leaving a large chunk of the wood missing. Ira let her Thu'um blossom from within her chest, the air cracking under the force of her Shout.

"_**Dur Neh Viir!**_"

Instantly a figure began to form from the rocks, causing men and orc alike to scatter from the area. Green, tattered scales appeared, and the great, undead dragon reared his head and let loose his own Shout, causing black, shadowy skeletons to rise us from the ground. While they moved in to attack the orcs, Durnehviir flung himself into the battle against the Nazgûl.

Ira dug her claws deep into the throat of one of the fell beasts, feeling the creature's thick blood ooze out over her scales. A feeling of pure power consumed her entirely, and she grabbed hold of the Nazgûl riding the beast and exhaled hot flames directly over both the creature and the fell beast. They hit the rocks in smouldering heaps of ash and bone.

A startled cry was drawn from Ira when two of the winged creatures attacked her at once, one clinging to her back while the other one dug its teeth into her tail. Ira felt herself swiftly losing altitude, and desperately tried to spin herself away from the beasts, but their combined weight was too much for her. The ground sailed ever closer, and Ira prepared herself for a heavy impact when suddenly another force rammed into her from the side. Another yelp left her throat, but Ira realised she had not, in fact, been the target.

Durnehviir had swept away both of the fell beasts with a single hit, and while one was quickly regaining its senses, the other one was locked firmly in the jaw of the undead dovah. The desire for revenge sprung up within her like a geyser, and Ira shot towards the other beast, using her full weight to send it careening into the Black Gate, destroying the gates and crushing several orcs in the process.

Ira then turned her attention towards the main army, sending out jet after jet of fire as the blood in her veins ran hotter and hotter, feeling her with a pleasant burning sensation.

The light of Sauron's gaze suddenly swivelled towards Mount Doom, and Ira took that to believe Frodo and the Ring were there, especially since the remaining Nazgûl flew quickly towards the mountain.

She heaved a mental sigh even as she swept down and picked up a troll that had been about to attack Aragorn. It was almost over. All Frodo needed was the last of his strength to toss the Ring into the fires of Mordor.

Within a minute there was a loud, high-pitched screech, and Sauron's Eye exploded outwards violently, and the spirit of the Dark Lord began to thrash around even as the tower upon which it was settled started to crack and crumble. Knowing their master was defeated, the orcs began to flee, but Ira and Durnehviir were there to burn the remnants of Sauron's army. A loud explosion shattered what remained of Barad-Dur, and the ground beneath the bulk of the orc army splintered as well, causing the orcs to fall into a deep fissure.

The army of men - now significantly smaller than its original size - all started to cheer, but then a sorrowful silence filled the air when Mount Doom violently erupted, spewing lava from its top.

_Eleniel!_

Without hesitation Ira flew towards Mordor, noticing Durnehviir followed close behind, not knowing what she was doing but nonetheless prepared to follow her. Ira's sharp eyes scanned around the barren wasteland whilst simultaneously eyeing the lava flow, hoping with all her heart that no one was caught in the flames. Durnehviir suddenly disappeared from her side, and Ira glanced down to see him scoop an armoured, red haired woman up into his foot, curling his claws so he didn't drop her. Ira gave him a silent nod of thanks, before swooping closer to the volcano. She spotted two figures lying on a dark rock and immediately descended, having to quickly dart out of the way to avoid the flaming rock that had been spat out of the top of Mount Doom. Her claws curled around each of the hobbits, and she turned and began to fly swiftly towards Minas Tirith. She avoided the entrance to Mordor completely, knowing that Frodo, Sam and Eleniel would need help as quickly as possible.

Within ten minutes they landed in the courtyard of the white city, gently draping their charges on the floor. The three were instantly rushed towards the healing tents that had been set up all over Minas Tirith.

Ira turned to Durnehviir. "_**Thank you for your aid, my friend.**_"

Durnehviir grunted. "_**It was well deserved,**_" he replied, before he muttered a Shout under his breath and faded from view in a puff of purple smoke. Ira allowed her body to shift back into her human form and immediately winced, glancing down to see four deep gashes, conforming with the shape of a wyvern claw, spanning the length of her right leg. They were slowly trickling deep, red blood.

Ira ignored her discomfort and headed straight for the healing tents to warn the healers of the large number of soldiers who would be needing their help within the next few days.

* * *

**Tadaa! War over. Goodbye, the end!**

**I'm just kidding. This story isn't complete _just_ yet. ;)**

**Until next time, lovely readers!**


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.**

**A/N: I'm SO sorry for being late, guys, but I've now officially entered my full-time revision. So the last few chapters might be a little sporadic in terms of posting. I will try to stick to my weekend posts as much as possible, but I just thought I'd warn you.**

**Big thanks to BlastBurn54 for following/favouriting :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Dragon Man 180: ...Yeah, I would have liked to see that too :3**

**Pietersielie: Ooh, you got beaten off the line this time round ;) Glad you liked it, though.**

**jsun25: Well, there are still a few chapters to go yet :)**

**gabiey: Glad you thought so!**

**Mac Gustah: The Assassins are pretty cool, too. I'm secretly a double agent, but I can't tell you whose side I'm REALLY on, because otherwise I'd have to kill you. As for school... Trust me, man, I know the feeling -_-**

* * *

**Chapter 55:**

Mental, physical and emotional exhaustion meant Ira didn't go back to the main army after arriving in Minas Tirith. As soon as she was ushered out of the healing tents by two _extremely _insistent healers, she went straight to a wall, slumped against it, and fell into a deep slumber that lasted over eighteen hours. When she woke she was lying in a plush, comfortable bed.

Sam woke up after just a few hours, and ever since then he'd only ever left Frodo's side to eat and, once, to wash. Ira hadn't yet been able to drag up the courage to tell him that Alduin was dead. But she didn't give enough credit to the little hobbit, because he, unbeknownst to her, had already worked it out. Her lacklustre attitude was a large clue, but Sam had so rarely seen one without the other that Alduin's absence made it all too clear what had happened. And in his own way, Samwise Gamgee also grieved the loss of his friend.

Eleniel had been placed in a healing tent at first, but after a few strong, harsh words from the Dragonborn, she was moved into one of the palace gardens, in direct view of the bright, spring sunlight. While she had yet to wake up, her skin was starting to regain its colour and vigour, and in general she looked far healthier (looking past the very obvious fact she hadn't eaten properly in days).

Frodo was still deep in slumber, and it didn't look like that was going to change very soon. He hadn't so much as twitched the entire time he'd been in the healing tent, nor when he was moved into one of the palace's guest rooms.

The army were expected to return within the next few hours, and half of the population of Minas Tirith had been up since sunrise putting up more healing tents and gathering as many supplies as they could. Most of the tents were scattered beyond the front gates so the injured men wouldn't have to be dragged through the city to reach the care they would so desperately need.

Ira wandered through the palace, fiddling with the silver ring on her finger as she went. It was an unconscious action, but it brought her a slight measure of comfort. It reminded her that it _hadn't_ all been a dream - both the good bits and the bad bits.

After knocking lightly on the door, Ira ducked inside Frodo's room, seeing Sam was fast asleep, his head resting on the edge of Frodo's bed. The window in the corner was wide open, letting in the cool air from outside, so Ira picked up a woollen blanket and draped it over Sam's shoulders. Some of the tension in his body immediately drained away when the warm fabric protected him from the chill.

Ira's eyes, like they always did when she saw the little dark haired hobbit, went straight to his throat. Around his neck was a dark, red line. Ira knew it was from where the chain of his necklace had been, the Ring of Power literally weighing down on his skin. But the mark looked more like a burn, and Ira worried that it would leave permanent damage. Frodo didn't need any more reminders of the traumatic experiences he'd been forced to endure.

Pulling up a chair, Ira sat herself down on the other side of Frodo's bed, picking up the book she'd left on the table next to it. It wasn't a particularly imaginative book - it was a story about a ghost who came back from the dead to cut people's heads off - but it was well written and kept her occupied.

This was it for her. Her last adventure for a long time had almost drawn to a close. For the moment, she was perfectly content with her new, calm life. But Ira wasn't naïve - she knew it wouldn't be long before she was craving the excitement of the unknown once again. At least this time she'd have something to distract her from thoughts of adventure.

Without thinking, Ira's hand slipped down to her stomach. There was no discernible bump yet, and Ira honestly didn't expect one to show for quite some time. Still, there was something strangely intimate in the knowledge that she had such a weak and vulnerable creature growing within her. Ira began to wonder whether it would be a boy or a girl. Would it be more human than dragon, or more dragon than human? Would it be able to shift, like its parents, or would it have a share of their characteristics? Would it simply be one or the other? Ira had to admit, as much as she was already loving the fact that she was going to have the chance to raise her own child, she wasn't overly keen on the idea of giving birth to a dragonling.

A slight groan pulled her out of her thoughts, and Ira dropped her hand from her stomach whilst also closing her book and putting it on her lap. Sam lifted his head, blinking blearily, then sent her a tired smile.

"Good morning," he greeted, before yawning.

Ira chuckled. "Good afternoon," she replied.

"Afternoon?" Sam asked in confusion, before glancing out of the window to see the sun in the Western part of the sky. "I didn't realise I'd sleep for so long."

Smiling, Ira said, "You don't have to sound so ashamed, Samwise Gamgee. You've been through a lot - you deserve a little extra time to rest." She gestured to the window sill behind him. "You missed breakfast, and lunch. That food will be cold by now but I'm sure you don't mind." And, proving her words right, Sam went straight for the food and started wolfing it down. Ira laughed. "Easy, easy," she said, and Sam paused to look up at her. She smiled fondly at him. "You don't want to eat too fast, otherwise you'll throw it all back up again."

Sam cringed at the words, before continuing to eat at a far more normal pace (though Ira still thought it was a little bit too fast). After a minute of silence, an echoing sound - one they'd all been eagerly waiting to hear - resonated over the land. Ira and Sam met each other's delight-filled faces, before they jumped up in unison and raced out of the palace.

While Sam was expecting to run all the way through the city to meet their friends, Ira had no such plans. She paused in the palace courtyard only long enough to shift her form, before she swept Sam into her claws and flew towards the army.

She dropped Sam from a slightly higher altitude than she'd originally planned, but he didn't seem to care, racing off as soon as his hairy feet touched the ground and throwing himself at Merry and Pippin, who were laughing with joy. They eagerly returned the embrace. Ira did exactly the same thing, but instead she pulled Aragorn into a tight hug, smiling brightly over his shoulder at the others, who were practically beaming at her. Ira assumed their happiness was because they were finally back and the war was over, but in truth, they were happy that Ira had more or less become herself again.

Aragorn pulled away after several seconds, his expression serious. "Did you find the others?"

Ira nodded, smiling widely. "They're alright," she said, much to the blatant relief of her friends. "Frodo and Eleniel have yet to wake, but they'll be absolutely fine once they do. Frodo's comfortably in bed, and Eleniel is back out in the sunlight. They're both already beginning to look better."

"This is good news," Gandalf said with a smile, even though his eyes and body looked incredibly weary.

"The healing tents have been set up throughout the city for anyone who's injured," Ira reported. "I - with the help of Lady Eowyn - managed to convince as many of the citizens of Minas Tirith as possible to help out with the influx of men who are about to come in. We have a work force of about three hundred, including every one of the Grey Company, and I think there are around eighty tents, most of which are in front of the city gates."

Aragorn placed a strong hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You've done more than enough, Ira. Thank you."

"There's one more thing," Ira said with a smirk. "There's already a group of about twenty people planning your coronation. At the moment, it's scheduled to take place on the first day of May."

Aragorn sent her a mock-disappointed look. "And you didn't try to dissuade them?"

She shrugged, far too innocently for his liking. "Why should I?" She gave him a serious look. "You can only go on denying your heritage for so long, zeymah. And, whether you decide to acknowledge it or not, the people of Gondor _and_ the people of Rohan believe you worthy of the title you were born to hold." She paused, nibbling her lip slightly. "I should warn you though... Denethor, he..."

"He's gone back to how he was before, hasn't he?" Faramir murmured listlessly. Ira sent him a sympathetic look, but nodded. He sighed. "I suppose, deep down, I knew that was how it would be. My father lusts for the throne too much."

"I will talk to him," Aragorn said, clapping Faramir on the shoulder. "Perhaps he and I can settle things before they are blown out of proportion."

"If nothing else, you will always have a higher status than him," Faramir said with a wry quirk of his lips. "If you give him a direct order, he has no choice but to obey you."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," the Ranger murmured, frowning slightly.

Ira gave him a look that told him not to be naïve, before stepping back and shifting into her dragon form. She stared down at the army before her, before giving a toothy grin and sail into the air, letting out a dramatic stream of fire from her maw, relishing in the cheers of the men behind them. This was it. With Sauron vanquished, the people who had served under his rein would scatter, and the free people of Middle Earth would become just that - free. Forever.

And with great certainty, Ira knew the men and women of the world of men would be fine without her for a while. So with this thought in mind, and without the need of a goodbye, Ira sailed off North, towards the place where a different part of her heart had left itself.

As she flew, Ira became aware of a large body of movement, heading towards the same mountain as her, only coming from further East. A single, enhanced glanced told her all she needed to know before she swept down upon the army and started to rain fire upon them. In seconds their screams filled the air, both from fear and from pain. A strange sensation filled Ira from the pit of her stomach, and even as she dove down and swept away several dozen men, a burning sensation started to assault her. She felt her body jerk of its own accord, and her eyes widened when, a split-second later, a sharp spear flew past her. Had she not moved, that spear would have hit her.

Pushing the strangeness of the situation away, Ira allowed the rage to fill her, and she started flying faster, moving more agilely and spewing flames that were twice as hot. Within just a few minutes the whole army lay as ash on the ground, drifting lazily in the wind. Fires burned fiercely, but as Ira circled, the wind she generated were quick to blow out the flames, leaving the battleground a wasteland.

Then, as if the event had never taken place, Ira returned to her original course and didn't look back. But she couldn't help but wonder about that pain inside of her, the one that saved her life. Her first thought was that her unborn child had some sort of advanced cognitive ability, but then remembered the protection charm Alduin had put on her and her child. Since Alduin had died, Ira assumed the Shout would have failed but what if... What if, since Alduin could no longer protect them through the use of his Shout, what if the Shout then turned and converged on Ira, so _she _would know when she or her child were in danger. She didn't think that was possible, but she had never bothered to learn about the lore of the dragon tongue and their Shouts. It was the only explanation she could come up with, by any means.

The Lonely Mountain and the city of Dale looked completely untouched by the war by the time she arrived, flying low over the city of men before landing on the dirt path that connected the two great cities. But while the kingdoms themselves seemed unharmed, there was a heavy sense of sorrow and hardship lingering in the air, and Ira knew for certain that this part of the world had not gone without its fierce skirmishes.

She was actually amazed that no one had tried to attack her as she flew overhead, but if the story of her and the boy on the bridge in Erebor had spread, no doubt she'd be known to the people of Dale by now.

Ira allowed her bones to shift and shorten themselves, feeling the rush of energy that shifted through her veins as it always did. She walked calmly but confidently up to the main gate of Erebor, and a single glance from the two guards of the gate were all that was required before she was wordlessly allowed entry into the great dwarven city. The inside of the mountain was in chaos. There were white tents everywhere, and men, elves, dwarves, and all the Skyrim races alike were rushing around, trying to tend to all their injured patients without neglecting anyone. While a few of them blinked twice at her, or looked completely taken aback to see her there, most were too busy to notice the figure weaving her way between the tents. Ira headed along the familiar path towards the throne room, and once again, she was easily allowed in.

She was met by a large gathering of representatives from all races, talking cordially with one another. All talk came to a halt when her presence was registered.

Fili straightened immediately, followed quickly by Kili, Dwin and Tauriel, who Ira was surprised to see away from the Greenwood.

"Ira," Fili greeted, surprising coating his voice. "Are you alright? Where's-"

"He's in Aetherius," Ira replied shortly, ignoring the stab to the heart that accompanied the words. "But he's not the only one," she said, after taking a moment to regain her composure. "A few days ago, Sauron was destroyed. His armies have scattered, but while they will be uncoordinated, they are still large in number."

Fili breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that is at least one weight off our shoulders."

Ira frowned. "What's wrong?"

"An army was seen heading this way. Easterlings."

"They're also dead," Ira stated with a shrug. "I... ran into them on the way over here."

The King of Erebor looked at her as if she'd gone completely mental. Maybe she had. Then he let out a laugh. "Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" He asked, relaxing slightly, along with everyone else at the table.

Ira sent him a crooked grin. "You might have mentioned it once or twice."

"Have you got any more important news to share with us?" Kili asked teasingly, flashing her that charming grin he pulled off so easily Ira suspected he didn't even realise it was charming at all.

Ira pretended to think about it. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "Though I don't think it is quite as important in the grand scheme of things."

"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Tauriel muttered, looking at her with mock-annoyance.

Ira chuckled. "I'm pregnant," she announced, before turning and waving over her shoulder, grinning to herself as the stunned faces of her friends played before her eyes once again.

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**Hi, guys :) So this chapter was almost a whole thousand words longer than usual. Hope you liked it!**

**Until next time, and again, sorry for the wait.**


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Bethesda or Tolkien**

**A/N: Made it on time this weekend :) This one's a bit shorter than normal, and spans over a two week period, but since the war's mostly over now, things are starting to settle down a little.**

**Big thanks to: Draelyan, mtayl009 and Dinosaur Imperial Soldier for following/favouriting. We're almost at the end now guys :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: Something tells me this new streak of yours is going to be nowhere near as long as your last.**

**Mac Gustah: The answer to the riddle is the letter 'e'. Unfortunately for you I have a great love of riddles, so I've come to know a lot of them. That is one of the ones I already knew the answer to without even having to think about it. Haha; try again ;)**

**gabiey: Well, here it is!**

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**Chapter 56:**

Ira stared at the market, happy that it was still as vibrant and lively as always, even with the mayhem going on at the entrance. She was looking for a particular young girl, but as of yet she'd had no luck.

Ira was just about to turn away and try somewhere else when a happy, high-pitched laugh met her ears, and she glanced down just in time to see a small figure collide with her legs. Carenna beamed up at her, grinning so widely it looked like it was almost tearing her cheeks apart.

"I'm going to need those, you know," Ira said with a smile, leaning down to scoop Carenna off her feet. The little girl giggled, throwing her arms around Ira's neck.

"You came back!" Carenna cried, burying her face into the crook of Ira's neck.

"I promised I would, remember?"

Carenna pulled back, frowning. "Mummy said not to get my hopes up. Said you might not be able to come back." She beamed. "But you did! I knew you would!" Then she frowned again, and her eyes began searching the area. Ira felt the pain come back. She knew who the girl was looking for. "Where's Alduin?" Carenna asked.

Ira could feel her eyes misting up. It was one thing tell grown-ups that her husband was gone. Telling a child turned out to be ten times harder. "He... I... He didn't..." Ira bowed her head, hiding her face in Carenna's hair as salty tears started to rapidly fill her eyes. "He's not coming back, Carenna," she murmured at last, having to brutally force the words through a tight throat.

Carenna sucked in a breath that held far more understanding than Ira would have expected from a girl so young. Carenna's small arms wound themselves tighter around her. "My daddy's not coming back either," the girl whispered, eyes filling with tears, just like Ira's. She let out a sob. "I miss my daddy!" Then she clenched her hands into fists in Ira's hair and started crying.

And, with the little girl letting out her grief, Ira couldn't hold anything else back. She sunk down onto her knees, still holding the small child in her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and before she could stop herself she screamed at the very top of her lungs. The pain was crippling. Carenna didn't react to the shout beyond tightening her hold on the Dragonborn. Ira's upper body and shoulders wracked with every sob that forced its way out, chest rising and falling unevenly as she gasped for breath, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She was losing her mind... again. She could feel it unravelling, the threads of every happy memory she could once recall all but a disarray of strings scattered about her feet. Her knees dug into the solid stone as she clutched Carenna tighter to her, as if the young child she'd only met a few times was her last lifeline. Her eyes saw nothing; they had lost all sight of what was and what could have been.

Both girl and woman were oblivious to the crowd gathered around them, murmuring lowly to one another, wondering what was wrong. Word that the Dragonborn had broken down swept through the mountain so fast that within two minutes the news met the ears of the King, and without preamble he rushed towards the market to find his grief-stricken friend who was his sister in all things but blood.

The crowd parted for him without a word, and Fili stepped forward to see his friend in a ball on the ground, grasping Carenna to her in such a way that the young girl was almost completely hidden by the older woman's towering form.

He didn't need to ask to know what was wrong. While she had so flippantly informed him and the others of Alduin's death, he could see the agony tearing away at her in her eyes. Hers was a pain that wouldn't so easily fade away.

Fili was never quite certain what the relationship between Alduin and Ira had been. He knew they loved each other beyond the ends of the world, but they never really let it show. Theirs was quite a cold love, in his eyes, but he'd always figured that was just something that was a result of their draconic blood. Now he began to wonder whether they simply didn't show their love to others. At least, not in the same way. He had sometimes wondered how one would react if they lost the other. He'd now seen both sides. When Alduin had thought Ira dead, the dragon had been overcome by a furious rage so strong that common sense had almost been completely discarded. Ira was different. Her grief was pure and unbridled, and Fili could feel some of it resonate off of her into him. He was, of course, distraught that one of his oldest friends was gone, but it was nothing like as bad as it was for the woman who'd had her husband and soul mate ripped so suddenly from her. It was a pain, he knew, not even their child could fully heal.

Slowly approaching the duo, Fili took note of how neither of them seemed aware of their surroundings. Even as he knelt down in front of them, neither of them paid him any attention. It was only when he gently placed his hand on Ira's arm that any reaction was garnered.

Ira jerked violently, her teary, red eyes shifting to look at him. Fili gave her a sad smile which she attempted to return, but it was meagre, and collapsed after less than a second. Fili took her hand in his own, making sure her eyes stayed glued to his as he started to murmur softly to her in khuzdul, the dwarven tongue flowing freely from his lips. Even though she couldn't understand what he was saying, Fili knew that the language was somewhat soothing to her and, sure enough, after a while her tears stopped and the tension released from her body. She slowly let Carenna go, and the little girl stepped back, wiping her own eyes free of tears.

Sending Fili a smile, Ira looked at the girl in front of her and gently stroked her hair. "Are you alright, brit kon?" She asked the girl, who sniffled slightly, before steeling herself and nodding. Ira couldn't help but smile slightly at the little show of strength. It never ceased to amaze her how much willpower and life the young nord had in her. "Good," the Dragonborn said firmly. She then straightened into a standing position, wiping away the last of her tear tracks as she went. Then, a spark of life appeared in her blue eyes, and she gave Carenna a grin. "Do you want to do something fun?" She asked, and the girl sent her a perplexed look, before nodding. "Come with me; I have a _great_ idea."

As Ira walked away with the little blonde haired girl trotting beside her, Fili couldn't help but marvel at how quickly she could regain control of herself. Truly, it was astonishing. And at the same time, he worried. Because bottling up her emotions never seemed to end well when it came to the half-dragon woman.

...

Ira's abilities with a forge were put into significant use over the next six days. A group of enemies would appear every few hours (thankfully, not usually in numbers greater than about three to four hundred) , and after each battle people would swarm the smithing areas to get their weapons repaired or replaced. Over the total of twenty-one battles, eight hundred and seventy-nine lives had been lost, and no single race went without losses. But the enemy had lost over seven times that.

Strangely enough, Ira was never informed of when an attack was happening - she'd only find out when the battered and tired soldiers started queuing to get their weapons looked at. What she didn't know was that Fili did this deliberately. He was worried for her mental state, and he didn't want to run the risk of worsening it because of being in yet another battle. It was war that took her husband away from her. He didn't want the possibility of her being swarmed by grief in the middle of a battle, as such a thing would probably result in her either being severely injured, or she would join him in Aetherius.

Thankfully, the battles were finally beginning to lessen in number, going from three or four a day to just one. A week later, and the city of Erebor was blessed with its first day without conflict.

Once Ira worked out why Fili refused to let her fight (and after she'd had a three hour long argument with him, which was only ended when she was once again called for her smithing abilities), she willingly avoided the surface levels of the mountain. She told Fili she was going to be gone for a few days, and then she started climbing to highest points of the city, which only ever contained one or two other people.

Armed only with a carving chisel and a hand hammer, Ira started carving her own mural for her deceased husband. She was no artist, and instead only carved using words, the dragon language taking form with each hour she spent carving into the stone. She was working at a relatively small scale (limited to the reach of her arms, as she'd never be able to carve the stone in her dragon form), but she wanted her memorial of Alduin to be no less meaningful than the one her friends had carved somewhere between Minas Tirith and the Black Gate.

By the time she was done, Ira had gone back down to the market, picked up some white paint, and then painted the grooves that she'd created, so each letter could be clearly seen. Unless Eleniel finished her studies on the dragon language, the only people who'd be able to read it were the dragons themselves. And Ira was perfectly happy to keep it that way.

...

With the war essentially over for the Northern part of Middle Earth as well as the South, Ira knew she would not be needed anywhere else. So, having reappeared from her three days away from the world, Ira said her goodbyes to her friends in Erebor and flew back to Minas Tirith to aid in the preparations for Aragorn's coronation. She was delighted to see, upon her return, that the elves of Rivendell had arrived, and there was news that many of the dúnedain were making their way towards the White City to see their Chieftain finally become the man he was born to be.

Frodo had still not woken from his sleep, but Eleniel had. Ira was practically ambushed by the eager young elleth, who, after laughing and rejoicing in seeing her godmother, promptly burst into tears.

Ira was startled. "Vanimelda, what's wrong?" She asked, gently grasping Eleniel's face between her heat-blistered hands.

Eleniel shook her head. "L-Legolas told me about..." The elf couldn't continue, but no more words were necessary before Ira pulled her niece and goddaughter into her arms, allowing Eleniel to sob into the nooks of her armour. And for once, Ira didn't feel the urge to break down at the thought of Alduin. The mourning stage was still in full-effect, but she felt stronger now. Perhaps her days in Erebor finally gave her the closure she desired without knowing, but she finally felt like she could get on with her life again.

Ira pushed Eleniel back and firmly held onto her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. "Alduin is the first-born of Akatosh," she reminded the elleth, who frowned in confusion at her words. "I have killed him myself once before, and still he came back to haunt me." She broke into a weak smile. "He promised to come back, Eleniel. And I know he will keep that promise."

"How long until he returns?"

Ira sighed, looking away. "It's difficult to tell," she admitted. "Last time it took over five centuries."

Eleniel vigorously shook her head. "I don't think I can wait that long," she admitted.

"You'll be fine," Ira said surely, smiling genuinely this time. "If I can wait that long, you're going to have no difficulties."

"Are you okay, though?" Eleniel asked in concern. "The others said that you-"

"I'm alright," Ira assured her. "I lost myself for a while, but I'm okay now. Or at least, I'm getting better." She looked closely at her goddaughter, eyes narrowing as she looked over the elleth, who suddenly seemed to find the floor very interesting. Something was different about her. She seemed to be... shining. Not literally, of course, but there was a figurative glow to her that Ira would recognise anywhere. "You've met someone," she said decidedly.

Eleniel looked up in surprise, then almost immediately her cheeks flamed bright pink. "I don't know what you're-"

"Nope," Ira cut in instantly, grinning widely. "You can't pull that with me, mal gein. Now come on, don't leave me in the dark. Who is it?"

Eleniel's blush deepened. "He's... amazing, Ira. He's one of the Rivendell elves. Erythor."

"Can I meet him?" Ira asked with a grin.

Eleniel narrowed her eyes at the older woman, who in turn raised an eyebrow. "Only if you don't do anything embarrassing," she answered.

Ira laughed, throwing her arm around Eleniel's shoulders. "Now why would I do that?"

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**Only a few more chapters until this is over! I can't believe it. I've decided to write a series of one-shots that take place after this ends, though, so this won't be the last you see of Ira.**

**For those of you wondering about Ira's Mural (thank you jsun25 for pointing it out to me), here's the link you can follow: tinyurl. com (slash) j4z4ejf**

**Until next week!**


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either the creative minds at Bethesda, or to Tolkien.**

**A/N: Hello my friends. I have an announcement to make. After this chapter, there will be (I think) two more - a full-length chapter, and then an epilogue. Yep, this tale is almost complete. Except it isn't because I'm probably still going to write those one-shots. But On the Road Again is nearly at the end of the line... Haha, that was so weird to write.**

**Big thanks to: Croziff, Amaranthium and beni245 for favouriting and following :)**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: You are very welcome :3**

**gabiey: Well, here it is!**

**jsun25: Hopefully you got my message :)**

**Mac Gustah: Hmm, no, I didn't no the answer to that riddle. (And no, I didn't cheat, though of course I have no way of proving that with absolute certainty). I think your I-F should be my friend now too. ;) Also, you kind of remind me of what one of my friends says he'll do if HE becomes President/Prime Minister. I'm equally terrified in both cases XD**

**Carelise682: Thanks :)**

* * *

**Chapter 57:**

Ira stared at her reflection in the mirror, a deep frown marring her face. A group of four handmaidens were talking between themselves in low voices they probably didn't know Ira could hear, but even so she didn't pay them much attention. No, her eyes were rooted to her reflection. More specifically, the small but visible bulge in her abdomen. A little over a month had passed since the battle at the Black gate, but even so, Ira wasn't expecting any sign of her pregnancy for another two months _at least._ So either there was something very different about the growth of half-dragons compared to the growth of human beings, or she had seriously miscalculated just how far along she was.

Ignoring the handmaidens behind her, Ira drifted into the recesses of her own mind, trying to work out just _when_ she actually became pregnant. As far as she knew, women started to show after around three months of pregnancy, which would take her back to January. Being on a quest made it difficult to keep track of time, but if she was correct, that would mean her little dovah kiir was made... in Moria. A shudder went through Ira when that thought hit her. The number of times she could have been killed since that moment was extremely concerning. Ira was beginning to believe it was luck alone that allowed her child to survive through all of that. All the stressful situations should have forced her to have a miscarriage. But, by some miracle, the child had survived, and was still growing.

"Lady Ira?"

Ira jolted slightly at the quiet, timid voice, and turned to see the youngest of the handmaidens standing nervously next to her. Ira gave her a reassuring smile. "Yes?"

"If you're ready, ma'am...?" The young girl gestured to the bed, where they had laid out a rich purple dress with pale blue lace. There were intricate gold details all over the bodice. Ira noted it had a distinctly elven appearance, but at the same time it had the craftsmanship of mankind. It was beautiful, and Ira said so. The young maid beamed up at her, before gesturing towards the dress. "If you'd like to try it on, Lady Ira, then we can make any adjustments needed before Lord Aragorn's coronation."

"Alright," Ira said contentedly, having given up on asking the women to call her just Ira. They refused to budge on the matter, so after a few days the Dragonborn just gave up.

Ira stood perfectly still as the handmaidens bustled about with her dress. She had to admit, she loved it to pieces, although it was beginning to feel a little tight around her stomach area. She was promised that they'd adjust it to compensate for her baby bump.

Ira had just finished changing into her loose, lilac tunic and her black breeches when Eleniel burst into the room, not even bothering to knock first.

"Half a minute earlier, and I would have been in nought but my undergarments," Ira said dryly, hugging her goddaughter. She then turned to the door. "It's safe to come in, Erythor." The young elf - only a couple decades older than Eleniel, in fact - did so, appearing, as always, a little awkward.

Erythor was an incredibly polite, amiable elf, however due to his mother getting severely injured while she was carrying him, the trauma caused what the people of Skyrim would call a 'birth defect'. It was nothing serious - there was a streak of pearly white hair in amongst all the brown - however, as a result, many of the elves thought him impure. While originally he'd come from the Woodland Realm, he eventually moved to Rivendell, where the elves were far more accepting of him. Even so, he still sometimes struggled to find people who would give him enough of a chance to look past the oddness of his appearance.

But Ira was happy for Eleniel. Erythor was about the best person she could find, and wholeheartedly (but silently) wished that the two of them would grow to develop a strong love for one another. They both deserved it. Already she could tell they'd established an initial connection, although she wasn't certain they themselves had picked up on it yet. Erythor deserved to be given a chance, and she had vowed to herself that she would fight his case alongside him were anyone to ever try to get between him and Eleniel.

Yes. Ira thought quite highly of the elf who had caught her goddaughter's attention.

"I see you've been busy this morning," Eleniel said, gesturing to the dress which was neatly draped over the end of Ira's large bed.

Ira snorted, shaking her head. "All I had to do was stand without moving. _That_ is _not_ what the word 'busy' means." She smiled at Eleniel. "Also, there might be something I didn't realise about my pregnancy..."

Eleniel's eyes widened, and her face became mildly panicked. "Why? Is something wrong? Is the baby okay?"

Ira laughed, lightly batting away Eleniel's fretting hands. "Calm down, vanimelda, the child is fine. I'm just a little bit further along than I thought, that's all."

Eleniel blinked owlishly. "How long?" She asked, eyes darting to Ira's stomach; not that it could really be seen - her tunic was loose and draped over her frame, rather than clinging to it.

"I think between three and four months, give or take," Ira answered, her smile broadening. "I've starting showing," she added.

"Really?" Eleniel squeaked, eyes brightening. "May I?" Her hands hovered over Ira's stomach, and the Dragonborn laughed softly before nodding. Eleniel tentatively placed her hand against the slight curve of Ira's abdomen. She giggled. "It feels strange," she admitted.

"How do you think _I_ feel?" Ira queried in return, grinning. Then she looked over at Erythor, who was trying to avoid eye-contact. Ira chuckled. "Relax, Erythor," she said softly, and Eleniel pulled her hand away before also turning to face the ellon. "You don't have to avoid me like the plague - I'm pregnant, not infectious."

The elf looked flustered when he finally dragged his eyes to meet hers. "Forgive me, my L-" he choked on his words slightly when Ira sent him a sharp glare, "Ira," he corrected hurriedly. "I simply feel a bit like I'm intruding on something personal."

Ira waved him off. "You're doing no such thing," she said firmly. "Besides, if you were, I would have kicked you out a long time ago. Heck, I might not even have let you in at all!"

"Ira!" Eleniel scolded, but the Dragonborn sent her a crooked smile in return.

"You know it's true."

Eleniel sighed. "Yes, you're right." She perked up again. "Well, Erythor and I did actually come in here for a reason - Aragorn's asking for you down in the stables. Something about Shadowmere and Shadowfax looking like they're about to kill each other."

Ira frowned. "That doesn't sound right - those two get on really well."

Eleniel shrugged. "In this case, I'm just the delivery girl. I don't actually know the details."

Ira sighed. "Well, I probably ought to go and see what all the commotion's about. No doubt it's a complete false alarm." She quietly left the room, her sensitive ears picking up on the start of a new conversation between Erythor and Eleniel. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Ira increased her pace, shaking her head and smiling knowingly to herself even as she did so.

She paused in the centre of the courtyard and willed her body to change. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a burning pain flared up in her stomach for a couple of seconds, before vanishing just as quickly. She let out a choked gasp and her hands flew to her stomach, trying to work out if her child was alright. When no further pain came, Ira's face settled into a frown again. What had happened? She would have been concerned about the past seventeen years repeating itself had it not been so sudden - before, when the Aedra started losing their powers, it took around two years for her to completely lose the ability to shift. This was too sudden for that, she was sure. But then what was the cause?

As if responding to her mental questions, a wise voice said, "You cannot become a dragon, can you?" Ira turned and saw Gandalf leaning against his staff with a warm expression on his face. She shook her head. The white wizard hummed, smiling. "I thought this might happen."

"You know what's going on?" Ira asked in surprise.

Gandalf shook his head. "Not for certain; I can only guess. My theory is that, in order to keep your child safe, it must remain in a stable, _unchanging_ environment. Therefore your body must stay the same as well. Too much change could potentially kill the child."

Ira blinked, then glanced down at her stomach, then looked back at Gandalf. She smiled. "That makes sense - and it's another worry off my shoulders."

Gandalf chuckled. "Understandable - the last time you lost your ability to shift, your whole world was up in flames. Now, I believe you have somewhere to be...?"

Ira chuckled. "Right, of course. Goodbye, Gandalf."

She waved idly at the wizard before starting the long trek down to the stables. Oddly, Ira had many people stopping to say 'hello' or to say thank you, as if she personally had saved the world. It was strange, and it was something she hadn't experienced for a very long time. She also didn't much like it, but she still kept her manners enough to speak the appropriate response to each person.

When she finally arrived at the stables, she noticed most of the Fellowship (plus Eomer, Eowyn and Faramir) were standing outside the stables, wearing half-amused, half-surprised faces.

Pippin was the first one to notice her, and he ran up to her with a slight grin. "How's Grape?"

'Grape' was Pippin's peculiar nickname for Ira's child. She had no idea why he'd suddenly come up with it, but he had and it had stuck. It was cute, though of course she didn't tell him that; otherwise he'd continue calling it that even _after_ it was born.

"Still growing," she said simply. "What's going on?"

"Apparently, Shadowmere's a hermaphrodite," Aragorn stated with an amused quirk of his lips.

Ira stared blankly at him. "Come again?"

"He has-"

"I know what it means!" She interrupted. "But why is that important?"

"Well, what we thought was going to be a fight between Shadowfax and Shadowmere actually became-"

"Never mind," Ira cut in again, grimacing. "I get the picture." She shook her head. "Are you sure he's a hermaphrodite? Or can he just shift between male and female? I mean, he's undead and technically a demon of sorts, so it's not out of the question."

"I think you can understand why we didn't put all that much thought into it," Faramir said with a laugh, moving to give her a quick hug. The two had become close over the past few days, and now shared much the same relationship with one another as they did with Aragorn. In fact, the whole group looked - from the outside - like a very varied, slightly dysfunctional family of sorts. It was a nice thought.

"So it was actually a false alarm, after all?" Ira asked, lips quirking in amusement.

Merry shrugged. "Well, you got an alarm for the wrong thing. But, with enough time, there'll probably be a few Shadow Juniors along the way."

"Maybe you'll have kids at the same time!" Pippin said enthusiastically, and Ira grimaced slightly.

"Horses have pregnancies that last a year, Pip," she stated patiently. "And with me already three months in, there's no way that will happen."

"Unless your pregnancy is longer than you think it'll be," Legolas pointed out softly. "The child you carry under your heart is unique, so we can know nothing for certain about it."

Ira sighed through her nose. "Yes, that's true. I guess I'm actually just _praying_ it'll be nine months - I'm not sure I'd be able to carry it for much longer than that. Too much frontal weight. I'll already be walking wonky for months afterwards, no doubt."

The Fellowship good-naturedly rolled their eyes at her, and it was so well timed that Ira actually thought it was pre-planned for a moment. Then she just reminded herself: _dysfunctional family._

Then Faramir spoke again, frowning. "What do you mean you're three months in?"

"Well, it's just a guess," Ira said quickly. "But this morning, while I was with my handmaidens, I noticed that I was already showing. So, unless half-dragons grow _very_ quickly, I'm actually further along than I first thought." She shrugged. "Other than the fact it means I can't fly anywhere anymore, that's perfectly fine by me."

"You can't fly anywhere?" Pippin asked in concern. "Why not?"

"I can't shift," Ira stated simply. "Gandalf said it was something about keeping the child safe. And that's good enough for me. It'll only be for a few months. Believe me - I've dealt with longer."

"It also gives me an excuse to keep you around for longer," Aragorn said teasingly, and everyone laughed when Ira playfully shoved him. A soft smile drifted across her face even as she listened with one ear as the group amicably conversed with one another. She looked around her, at the bustling city and the people who dwelled inside its white walls. City life wasn't for her, but she could see its appeal either way. And with her friends close by, and a quiet calm draping itself over the world, Ira knew with utter certainty that Middle Earth had become her home.

* * *

**For those of you who are unsure as to what a hermaphrodite is, it is a creature (or plant) who has both male and female sex organs.**

**Anyways, until next time, as always!**


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.**

**A/N: Well guys, this is it. The last full chapter of On the Road Again. It won't be the last you see of the beloved Dragonborn and her weird little family of misfits, but this is the official ending (except the epilogue; that's still to come)... Wow, I'm kind of getting emotional. I don't want it to end... Huh...**

**Big thanks to caliegh4889 for following and favouriting (still not a ward, but I still don't care) this.**

**Review Response(s):**

**Allard-Liao: Heh, thanks :3**

**Pietersielie: Ooh, beaten off the mark again! And yeah, there's LOADS more potential. I'm gonna suck the life out of those two, that's for certain. Glad you've liked this so much!**

**gabiey: As always, here it is!**

**Mac Gustah: The optimist, the pessimist, and the visionary. I don't really follow those - I go with the ethos that, if there's something in the glass, you need to do something to amend that. It's a waste of good liquid, otherwise ;)**

**jsun25: Haha, yep!**

**Guest: I like the name Skia... It's nice... I might have to steal it. P.S. The slaughterfish will be very happy, I'm sure ;)**

**Carelise682: Yeah, I don't like writing things like that (or reading it). I figured Ira Jr. was made of sturdier stuff though... XD**

**Miyuki Ai Takashi: Hmm... I'll think about it. But for the record, I don't want it to end either, so at least you're not alone.**

* * *

**Chapter 58:**

Frodo woke up just two days before Aragorn's coronation. The whole Fellowship had been delighted to see him awake, and they had spent a good twenty-four hours drinking (well, Ira didn't drink, but the rest of them were fairly liberal with their alcohol) and celebrating the return of one of the most famous hobbits in the known world.

But that was then. Now, the relaxed atmosphere was somewhat lacking.

Truthfully, Ira was panicking slightly. Aragorn's coronation was in less than an hour and her dress _still_ wasn't back. She was pacing anxiously up and down the length of her room, a frown set on her face.

She lifted her head when her door burst open, and in swept the same four handmaidens as usual, carrying her freshly altered dress. Without a word the four of them started preparing her, and Ira didn't waste any time by arguing or complaining when one of them pulled her hair a little too hard (which happened more than once).

The finishing touch - a golden, elven headdress - was placed on her head just over half an hour later, and the handmaidens stepped back to admire their handiwork. Despite the fact it had all been somewhat rushed, the final result definitely didn't disappoint. Ira didn't look like a warrior. She looked like a woman. A proper Lady, even.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Ira moved to answer it while her handmaidens bustled about clearing up all of the mess they'd made - not that there was much.

On the other side of the door was someone she hadn't expected to see. Ira smiled. "King Eomer," she said teasingly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I've not yet been coronated," Eomer answered, smiling gently, "therefore you shouldn't be calling me that."

Ira shrugged. "You're already acting like a King; that's good enough for me."

"You're not most people," Eomer retorted with a grin, before raising his arm. "Might I escort you out?"

Ira laughed, tucking her arm around his. "Since you asked so nicely." Eomer began leading her towards the main courtyard, where Aragorn's coronation would take place in front of the whole of Gondor. "So are you going to tell me the real reason as to why you're 'escorting me out'?" Ira asked quietly.

Eomer glanced at her in the corner of his eye. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Ira smirked wordlessly in reply.

Eomer rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I have come here to offer you the position of Steward in Rohan." Ira's step faltered, but the man's strong grasp on her arm kept her moving.

Ira murmured, "Believe me, my Lord, I would be one of the worst people to hold such a title."

Eomer chuckled. "I do not think you truly understand the terms of this agreement, Ira," he said softly. "In Rohan, the Steward is an advisor to the King mainly in times of great strife. During a war, or perhaps a famine, or an economic crisis. My uncle's last Steward passed away a year ago, and ever since then finding a new one has not been a priority."

"So I would only really be required when everything is going wrong?"

Eomer chuckled. "Officially, you are also required to attend the coronation of every monarch who rises to succession during the time in which you hold that title, but yes, the Steward's job is simply to advise in extreme circumstances. The people of Rohan have always believed that their Kings must make their own decisions, and not have too many other voices in their ears."

Ira pursed her lips as the two of them stepped out into the courtyard, which was almost completely full of people already. "I will have to think on it," she said at length. "But thank you for the offer, regardless of my decision."

"It is I who should be thanking you," he said, squeezing her shoulder firmly. "For everything; not just for what you have done for my kingdom."

Ira shrugged. "I merely did what any other would do."

Eomer chuckled. "Only a fraction of the men who ever existed would do what you did." He began to walk away, only to pause and turn back. Ira sent him an inquiring look. "I thought it might be a good idea to mention that being the Steward automatically provides you with a home within the borders - either one already built or one you can build yourself anywhere in the kingdom. Just think on that." He winked, grinning, before turning and taking his place amongst the crowd.

Ira stared after the man for a few seconds, before shaking off the distraction and moving to stand beside Eleniel and Erythor, both of whom were dressed up to look like royalty. The Dragonborn was surprised to see that there was a dwarfish braid in Erythor's hair. A dwarfish _courting braid_.

"So you two finally made it official?" Ira asked as she placed herself next to her goddaughter. The two of them flushed slightly, offering each other shy smiles, before facing Ira and nodding in unison. Beaming at them, Ira placed a gentle hand on Eleniel's shoulder, silently offering her support. In truth, she couldn't have been more proud of the woman Eleniel had grown up to be.

...

The coronation had been short and simple, as Ira knew it would be - Aragorn had grown up with a hard life, and she knew it would take a while for him to make the transition between dúnedain Chieftain, and King of Gondor. Ira smiled idly to herself as she recalled the ceremony, reminding herself of the determined gleam in Aragorn's eye when he turned to address his people for the first time. He exuded an air of regality and confidence she honestly didn't know he possessed with such potency.

But he did not forget his ties to the elves, singing his oath in the elven tongue, his voice flowing easily over the crowds and into the air. "_Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar hildinyar tenn' ambar-metta. (Out of the great sea to Middle Earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the end of the world.)_"

After the initial ceremony, many of the citizens made their way down to their homes. A great feast was being held that night to celebrate the arrival of a new King, and so they were now suspended in that in-between stage where people would be digging through their closets to find their best clothes.

Ira approached Eomer, who greeted her with a smile.

"I trust you have considered my offer," he said quietly.

Ira nodded. "I have," she said. "And I will accept on one condition only."

Eomer kept his face professionally blank as he tilted his head to the side. "And what is this condition of yours?"

"I am _only_ called in as a last resort." She shook her head. "I've finally got the chance to get away from the chaotic mess that is my present life, and I don't want to have to leave my family any more than I absolutely have to." Her hand unconsciously drifted to her stomach, where the bulge was pressing slightly against the smooth material of her dress.

Eomer smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "You have my word, Lady Ira," he said, bowing his head slightly. "But I should probably tell you that only a King can decide on the next Steward, and I have-"

"Not yet been given the title, I know," Ira said, chuckling. "I just wanted to let you know. At this point, all I need is word from you and I should be there as soon as possible."

Eomer placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. Your loyalty means a lot to us all."

Ira shrugged self-depreciatingly. "It's really nothing special. But you're welcome all the same."

The bright and sunny sky grew suddenly stormy over their heads. The sun became completely covered by thick purple clouds that seemed to appear out of nowhere, creating a mass of formless faces that were at once unnerving and awe-inspiring.

Everyone turned their eyes skyward as the clouds began to crackle with electricity, the blue sparks zipping across the sky every second or so. Ira and Eomer stood next to each other, staring up in confusion.

Suddenly a beam of golden yellow light shot out from the clouds, landing in the centre of the stone courtyard. Everyone jumped back from the light, and Ira could feel the intense heat that originated from the beam even from several metres away. After a second the light dissipated, leaving a thick layer of fog which disappeared quickly. In a low crouching position, clad in armour Ira instantly recognised to be of daedric origin, was a pale man with black hair and amber eyes.

He rose slowly, as if his latest form of travelling left his legs shaky, before his eyes swept over his surroundings. They came to a screeching halt when they landed on Ira, whose mouth was agape and who was stunned into silence.

The expected reaction for anyone watching would have been for the Dragonborn to instantly launch herself forward and throw herself at the man who was her husband; the man who had died and returned to her despite all odds. They would have expected her to maybe hit him a few times, before smashing her lips against his with a vigour that would appear to be almost painful.

But she did none of these things.

Instead, Ira's legs gave out from underneath her and she fell to her knees on the stone. She stared up at Alduin for a few seconds before she buried her head in her hands and started to sob. Her whole body shook violently as she cried, and she became numb to the world around her as the relief and love and hope rushed through her with more power than she could physically cope with.

A familiar pair of warm, strong hands grasped her arms, pulling her into a standing position, before Ira found herself drawn into a comforting, tight embrace. Her fingers dug themselves into the grooves of his new armour, pulling herself as close to him as possible. They held onto each other tightly, as if the mere thought of letting the other go would make them lose each other forever. Ira drew back just enough to press her lips against his. It wasn't forceful, but it was passionate and loving and clearly conveyed the overwhelming emotions both were feeling.

Ira's fingers mixed themselves in his hair, tugging at the familiar black locks, while his large hands settled themselves on her cheeks, his thumbs tracing the soft skin that was spattered with salty tears.

When they finally drew apart, Alduin knelt down on his knees and gently wrapped his arms around her waist, before he leaned forward and pressed his face into her stomach, feeling the minor bump that acted as proof that his child was growing within her womb. He began murmuring to her stomach in the dragon tongue, the words low and quiet, before he pressed a single kiss to the silk that guarded her most precious creation.

"I hate you," Ira grumbled, happily running her fingers in the dark tresses of his hair.

"I know."

"I feel like I should kill you for what you did to me."

"I know." Alduin stood up and pressed his forehead against hers, a soft sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

"Never do that to me again," Ira whispered, hands cupping his face as she closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his warm skin against hers - a sensation she hadn't realised she missed quite so much. It was the small things in life that were important, she realised; the ones that you forgot about almost immediately once you lost them, only to realise how much they impacted on your life upon receiving them back again.

"I won't," he replied softly. "I made a promise once, and I intend to keep it."

"And what promise is that?"

"To spend forever with you by my side."

* * *

**Ta-dah! Just the epilogue next guys, and then our long journey spanning from September 2014 (when I first published Dragons of the North) to now will be over.**

**For the last time in this story: Until next time!**


	59. Epilogue

**Discalimer: I only own my OCs. The rest belong to either Tolkien or Bethesda.**

**A/N: So here is the epilogue, guys. This is the end (my only friend, the end...). Heh, sorry - couldn't resist. Anyway guys, thanks a lot for everyone who has followed and favourited both this and DotN over the past two years. It means a lot to know I have the support of so many. So, for the last time, here is the next chapter!**

**Review Response(s):**

**Pietersielie: It's alright - there's more fluffiness in this one ;)**

**Aria-chanforever: You have no idea how happy I was that I could translate most of that without using Google. As it turns out, my GCSE French lessons have paid off. I'm now going to attempt to reply likewise; if I royally screw it up, I apologise. Vos questions seront répondues dans ce dernier chapitre. J'espère que tu aimes.**

**shamwoohoo52: Yes, he's back. And kind of...? I keep changing my mind about what I want to happen.**

**Mac Gustah: Don't worry, they'll still show up every now and then for the one-shot fic. And I'm gonna miss having our weird little chat-things that probably don't really classify as 'talking' in the normal sense. But, hey, it was fun XD P.S. I got Fluffy back. He has a new haircut that looks pretty snazzy ;)**

**Guest: I doubt think Alduin is ever really gonna die - he's the first-born of Akatosh. I'm sure his father can pull a few strings, as it were, to keep him from permanently dying.**

**Dragon Man 180: That image makes me smile :) Thanks for the constant support.**

**gabiey: Well, here it is. Thanks for sticking with me right from the start. Your frequent reviews always made me happy :D**

**Miyuki Ai Takashi: Hehe, I'm kind of glad... XP**

* * *

**Epilogue:**

It was strange. He'd faced dragons and gods and god-like mortals and Death itself (twice), and never before had he felt the same fear clawing and twisting in his gut. Despite the fact that their home lay within Everholt, a small section of the Firien Wood that only barely remained within the borders of Rohan, Ira had insisted they travel to Minas Tirith, where many of their friends still dwelled. He supposed it was better that she had the extra help, but it did mean that he was very swiftly ushered out of the room where his wife was currently birthing their firstborn.

Alduin had never been one to ever show his concern - any sign of weakness made a dragon less and less worthy to rule, so he was very good at keeping his emotions from showing on his face - but that didn't mean he wasn't feeling it. He found mild amusement in the fact that Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Faramir, Eowyn, and the Lady Arwen kept looking at him as if they expected him to have a mental breakdown, only to find him in the same position as before. Standing stock still, staring out of a window, without a single glimpse of emotion on his face. Still, he knew there was a significant amount of tension showing in the set of his jaw and the square of his shoulders.

For once, he actually didn't care about the minor lapses. He was around people he knew well and trusted, and who were likely to be going through similar pangs of worry.

Still, none of this was able to override the mirth that was provoked whenever his ears caught colourful expletives escaping Ira's lips from the other side of the closed door, promising him pain in a few very imaginative ways in the dragon language. And, he reminded himself, if Ira was still able to curse him to Oblivion and back, it meant she was okay.

He wondered what it would feel like to hold his child in his arms for the first time. Even the mere thought of it was completely foreign to him - he'd never once held such a fragile creature in his arms. He'd only ever interacted with a single dragonling, and the encounter was neither important nor particularly memorable. He himself had not said anything. He'd simply stared down at the small beast who'd had the guts to approach him with bright and curious eyes. Back then, all he'd felt was derision towards the child. Now, it was his own offspring, and already he could feel that protective instinct bubbling hotter in the pit of his stomach. A dragon's child was precious - like a jewel, only a jewel that lived and breathed and had purpose and meaning. A jewel who could love you back, if given the chance. Most dragonlings were taught very early on not to ever expect outright love or kindness, because they would be disappointed every time. He didn't want his own flesh and blood to grow up like that. Perhaps once, but he had changed a lot since then, and had come to see all things in a different light. Sometimes it was worth giving yourself a weakness, because it also gave you strength. Strength beyond anything that physical robustness could ever provide.

"You're very quiet," Faramir said, breaking the silence on this side of that blasted door - Ira was still cursing to the high heavens, though her voice was slightly muffled.

Alduin glanced at the man who could have been Ira's own brother - they had the same blue eyes, even if their hair settled into two different shades of brown. And he was aware that Ira felt a very strong sentimental attachment towards this man. "I have no words to say," he said simply.

Faramir arched an eyebrow. "Your wife is in there giving birth to _your child_, and you have nothing to say?"

Alduin shook his head. "Truthfully, I do not think this to be a situation that requires many words."

"Are you not concerned for her?"

"A little," he admitted, "but I also know as well as you do that she'll be perfectly fine. If nothing else, her stubbornness will keep her safe from harm during a time like this."

"Then what is it that holds your thoughts so securely?"

Alduin was quiet for a moment, mentally weighing up the pros and cons of telling this man the direction in which his mind had headed. "I am thinking about what kind of a man I want my child to grow under," he said quietly, frowning slightly. "It is sometimes quite difficult for a dragon to express positive emotion, because, not only is it a natural instinct in our minds to reject any kind of affection, but we also are never shown what kindness and love are as dragonlings. It is a foreign concept that has to be trained into our minds. I am not ignorant to the fact that, even now, I slip into my natural tendencies more often than I'd like."

Faramir smiled and patted Alduin's shoulder twice. "Just wait until you lay eyes on your son or daughter," he said with a smile. "Seeing your child for the first time is a life changing moment. It might just make expressing your emotions easier."

"We'll see," he murmured.

They fell into silence again, and it wasn't long before Ira fell silent on the other side of the door as well. They all turned to glance in the direction of the room, waiting to hear the wails of a newborn child. Alduin was just beginning to fall into panic when they finally came, the sound shrill and loud and cutting clearly through the air. It made his ears ache, but it sounded so _right_. It was a sound he knew he'd eventually come to despise, but in that moment, he couldn't help but relish in the noise. One thing was for certain - his child had a very healthy set of lungs.

It took a minute of anxious anticipation before one of the midwives came out of the room, her hand hovering on the door handle, keeping it pulled almost closed. The babe had by now fallen silent again. She met Alduin's eyes confidently, and then smiled at him. "She's asking for you," the midwife said, before stepping back to let the dragon past. Alduin was slightly surprised when he wasn't followed by the others, but was nonetheless glad of it.

Ira looked almost sickly, with pale, clammy skin and a forehead dotted with sweat, but her eyes shone with pride and joy as she gazed down at the bundle of white cloth wrapped firmly in her arms. She lifted her head, revealing the deep purple bags under her eyes, but still she beamed at him with such potent happiness that she could have been the most beautiful woman in the world, despite looking like she'd spent the night fighting against an invincible foe.

"It's a girl," she whispered as Alduin perched himself on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for Ira to shift their daughter so he could see her. The pink face that met his eyes was small and round, and her brilliant golden irises gazed up at him with curiosity, awe, and intrigue. Alduin was unable to stop himself from gently taking the girl from Ira, the small bundle settling comfortably in his arms. He then pried apart the two layers of blankets and trailed his finger over her soft cheek. The girl grabbed at his finger with her tiny, chubby hand, clinging to it with more strength than he would have thought possible for such a small creature.

"She's beautiful," he murmured, completely dumb-struck by the sight in front of him. There was a slight smattering of chocolate brown hair on her head, showing she was going to grow with her mother's hair.

"She's perfect," Ira said in response, smiling as she watched her husband react to their daughter for the first time. She could see that their little girl had him wrapped around her little finger already, just as she had previously done for Ira. Of course, neither of them cared about this, and instead fell willingly into her grasp. Ira tore her eyes away from her child and gazed up at her husband, who took a second to meet her gaze. His eyes had a softness to them that she had only ever seen once or twice before. "What should we call her?" Ira asked softly, leaning back against the wall, her tiredness clearly starting to register in her mind.

Alduin thought for a moment, before looking down at the girl again. He knew that, while she was calm at the moment, that small body was hiding a tempest waiting to be released. "Briiahnah," he decided firmly. _Beauty Hunter Fury._

Ira smiled drowsily and nodded, resting her head against Alduin's arm. "Sounds good," she murmured softly.

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**And that's it guys. Thank you all SO much for taking the time to read and review and favourite/follow this fic; hopefully I was able to keep you entertained the whole time. If you'd like to keep going forward with Ira, Alduin and now Briiahnah, keep an eye out for my next fic. Haven't decided what to call it yet, but I'll post a little author's note when it's published.**

**Farewell, my loyal readers, and goodnight!**


	60. AN

**Hi, it's me again. Just thought I'd let you know that the one-shot fic is now posted. It's called 'Wings Drive Us Forward'. Thanks again for all your support!**

**~ Ec1aire**


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